


All Pretty and Petite

by SomethingBlue42



Series: Suptober 2020 [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Background Case, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Cunnilingus, Dean Winchester Has a Sexuality Crisis, Dean Winchester Has a Vagina, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dean Winchester Wears Castiel's Trenchcoat, Dean Winchester Wears Makeup, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Dean Winchester Wears a Dress, Dean Winchester is Loved, F/M, Face-Sitting, Female Dean Winchester, Female Sam Winchester, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Roles, Genderswap, Ghost Sex, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Masturbation in Shower, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Menstruation, Oral Sex, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Winchester Has Feelings, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Wears Makeup, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sassy Rowena MacLeod, Sexual Dysfunction, Sexual Violence, Spells & Enchantments, The Impala (Supernatural), Vaginal Sex, Wendigo, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27535369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingBlue42/pseuds/SomethingBlue42
Summary: When Rowena bets the Winchesters they can't go a single month as women, Dean thought it'd be the easiest favor they ever won, Sam's just reluctantly along for the ride, and with the Book of the Damned at stake, there's no backing out.31 days in a girl body? What could possibly go wrong?ORSam and Dean Smash the Patriarchy
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Suptober 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960396
Comments: 86
Kudos: 362





	1. The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so it's the middle of November but I'm still determined to finish this stupid list.
> 
> Another one that grew wildly out of hand.
> 
> Posting every day till it's done.
> 
> Title from "I'm Just a Girl" by No Doubt

Dean leaned against a pew at the front of the decrepit church and checked his watch for the third time in so many minutes. 

"Am I boring you, dear?"

Rowena's sweet burr lanced right through the migraine that had been forming since the morning. He rolled his eyes to the witch, purposefully ignoring the pained expression on his brother's face. He gave her a tart smile.

"Having the time of my life over here."

"He's grateful for your help, Rowena." Sam gave his brother a pointed look. "We both are."

Dean rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get on with it. The sooner this case is over, the better." Dean shivered.

Rowena gave a musical laugh. "Having a wee bit of anxiety about the possibility that you might be the next victim?"

"No!" Dean spat petulantly. "Besides, all the dudes this _thing_ infected were blissfully happy about… about…" Dean gestured to his torso.

"Bearing children," Rowena provided helpfully.

Dean plowed on. "And neither Sam nor I have _ever_ wanted kids." He lifted a hand holding forefinger and thumb together to gesture at the air as if adding an emphatic period. " _Ev.er._ "

Sam cleared his throat and handed the bowl he'd been holding over to Rowena. She looked up at him from under long, mascaraed lashes. "Is that true, Samuel?"

" _Yes_!" Dean insisted, and Sam looked at him, a pained expression painting his face before he dropped his gaze to the roots he'd begun to mash in a pestle. 

"Jess and I talked about it a couple-a times," he mumbled lowly, and Dean looked utterly shellshocked. 

"You… you…" Dean sputtered and then pushed himself off the pew, moving towards the altar behind which the other two stood. "After _everything_ , we went through as kids. After _all_ , we've seen."

Sam sighed. "Well, in my defense, we hadn't seen most of it until _after-"_ Sam cut himself off with lips mashed down tight. He looked at Rowena and gave her a polite smile. "I don't want kids either."

"All for the best, I suppose." Rowena crumbled something in the bowl and wiped her hands over it with a flourish. "You're lucky you two were born male. I don't think you could have handled being a woman. Pregnancy or otherwise."

Dean snorted. "Please, if we'd been girls, our life would have been a cakewalk." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Can you imagine John Winchester with daughters? We'd have been lethal."

Sam shot him a look. "We're already kinda lethal, Dean."

Dean gave a shrug, conceding the point but went on. "I mean, with our training _and_ boobs? We could work our way into _any_ situation with just a little," Dean gave them bedroom eyes, "Hey, how ya doin'?"

"Don't you already do that?" Sam teased, and Dean glared at him.

"I'm just saying as men, we intimidate people even when we don't mean to. Everyone's always suspicious. Girl hunters have it _way_ easier." 

Rowena let out an astonished laugh, looking at Dean astonished before looking up at Sam, who had twisted his lips to the side. "You agree?"

Sam's eyes met hers and then skittered away again. "In general, no. But on this point." Sam winced. "Yeah, kinda."

"Plus, way easier to get into small spaces when you're girl-sized." Dean ticked off a finger. "I have never seen another hunter refuse to help a female hunter with a job." Dean ticked off another and looked at Sam. "How many times have we been turned down in an apocalypse, Sammy?"

Sam sighed. "A lot."

Dean gestured at him. "A lot." He gave Rowena a smug smile.

Rowena narrowed her eyes. "You're forgetting that being smaller also means being _weaker_." 

Dean waved a hand with a snort, and Sam chuckled, adding, "Try telling that to Eileen."

Rowena pursed her lips. "Alright, well, try running down a Wendigo with menstrual cramps while nearly bleeding out each month."

Dean scoffed. "Oh, _come on_. It can't be _that_ bad. Try being kicked in the nuts some time."

Rowena put her hands on her hips and looked to Sam for backup. Sam cringed. "Getting hit in the nuts is pretty horrible. Not gonna lie."

"Samuel," Rowena sighed, shaking her head. "I am disappointed. I thought you were a feminist."

"Don't let the hair fool you." Dean crossed his arms and smirked at his own joke. Sam glared at him.

Rowena contemplated them both before shaking her head. "If you woke up tomorrow as a woman, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself."

Dean snorted. "Oh, I'd know what to do with myself. And after enjoying _multiple_ orgasms, because that's a thing you all were gifted with, I'd hop on my dating app and get some poor schlub to buy me a nice steak dinner." 

Rowena's smile turned predatory. "Care to make a wager on that?"

Sam's head shot up, looking over at his brother with apprehensive eyes. Dean's face had sobered, and for a second, Sam was relieved, knowing any second Dean would backtrack, but Rowena lifted her brows in challenge, and Dean's bunched in determination. "N-!"

"I'm game. What are the stakes?"

"You make it through _one month_ as a woman, and I will owe you a favor."

Dean blinked. "A favor. That's _it."_

"Careful, Dean." Rowena's eyes flashed purple. "You never know when you'll be in desperate need of my help, and I could be halfway across the world! Or just not feeling generous that day."

"What's to stop you from not feeling generous _anyway_ even when we win?" Dean gave her a pointed look.

"Well, it would be a magically binding contract, dear."

"What's in it for you?" Sam asked, his eyes narrowing. "If he taps out. What do you get?"

"If _we_ tap out." Dean amends, and Sam let out a quick bark of laughter.

"Yeah, no, I don't want any part of it." 

"I'm in it; you're in it. We're a package deal. Nut up, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "What do _you_ get, Rowena?"

Rowena's smile was saccharine sweet. "The Black Grimoire."

"Absolutely not." Sam shook his head. "Come on, let's get this over with."

But Dean held out a hand. "All we have to do is go about our lives as girls? For a month. That's it?" Rowena nodded primly. Dean looked at Sam. "I dunno about you but-"

"Noooo," Sam's head fell back as he whined. "No, no, no, Dean!"

"Sammy, this is gonna be the easiest favor we've ever earned," Dean reasoned, and Sam pressed his fingers into his eyes, groaning behind closed lips. "Come on, think of how pretty you're hair's gonna be." Dean teased, but his face went serious suddenly. "Hey, no, making us ugly. That's cheating." Sam chuckled, but it was utterly devoid of humor. 

Rowena spread her hands. "The spell simply changes your Y chromosome to X. You will look as you would have were you born female."

Sam eyed her. "No, making us pregnant, either."

"I would not put a child through that, Samuel." She smiled hesitantly, eyes sliding from one brother to the other. "Do we have a deal?"

Sam and Dean shared a look before Dean crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his chin up. "We have a _bet_. Now finish the spell."


	2. Heh... Titties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam wake up as women. Sam is cranky and Dean is... well... Dean

Later that night, back in the motel room, Sam and Dean got ready for bed. They’d solved the case, vanquished the evil, and Dean was more than ready to get in his four hours. Sam moping around like a kicked puppy was seriously harshing his vibe. 

“Would you stop?” Dean asked from where he was sprawled across his bed, and Sam glared at him, pausing in his packing.

“This was a _bad_ idea,” Sam muttered, tossing his duffle on the floor before climbing in his own bed. 

Dean looked down at the raised skin of his inner wrist, the symbol there whiter than the skin around it. He stroked a finger over it absently. “Sam, this is going to be a walk in the _park_ compared to anything else that has ever happened to us.”

Sam grumbled, leaning over to click off the bedside lamp, and the room darkened, but the light thrown from the no vacancy sign outside kept everything visible but the corners. “What do you think we’ll look like?” Sam’s voice was quiet, apprehensive and Dean chuckled.

“Well, I’m gonna be hot as _fuck_.” Dean rolled his head to the side and grinned at his brother. “You might be a little goofy looking.”

Sam scowled at him. “We aren’t in our twenties anymore, Dean. Your Amber Herd fantasy is likely not happening.”

“I know that,” Dean groused. “I’m thinking more of a Charlize Theron. Eh… eeeh?”

Sam laughed despite himself. “Oh yeah? And what about me?”

“Well, you’re no Julia Roberts-”

“She’s in her 50s now, Dean.”

“-but I’d say you’d be a solid Jessica Biel.”

Sam was silent for a moment. “That’s… not so bad.”

Dean wiggled excitedly. “Man, I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow. First thing I’m gonna do-“

“-is wait until we get to the bunker before you start touching yourself.”

“Aw, come on, Sam! It’ll be just like when we were teenagers-“

“I didn’t like you doing it then either, Dean!”

“Whatever, I didn’t mind putting on headphones so you could enjoy yourself.” 

“I didn’t ever do that.”

Dean propped up on an elbow. “You are such a liar. I’ve _seen_ you doing it.”

Sam’s eyes bugged out of his head. “What?” His voice shot up an octave as he turned red to the roots of his hair. “Why were you _watching_?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t _watching_. I woke up. Saw…” Dean gestured to Sam’s waist. “Rolled over and went back to sleep. Like a good brother does.”

“I hate you so much.”

“In fact, I’m gonna roll over right now and let you have a private moment before the change happens.” Dean made a show of rolling over, shoving an arm under his pillow as he turned his head to holler over his shoulder. “Because lord knows with your skills an orgasm ain’t happening after you turn female.”

Dean huffed as a pillow flew across the room and hit him on the back of the head. He merely grabbed it and shoved it under the other, settling in for sleep.

#

Dean awoke the next morning, laying on something lumpy with sunlight hitting him in the face. He lifted his body, attempting to shove away the pillow that had wormed under him in the night but found nothing. Dean huffed, swatting hair out of his face as he flopped back down and felt a sharp pain in his chest, landing on something. His hands scrabbled under him but again found nothing. Frustrated, he reached to bat the hair out of his face again, forcing his eyes to open and see just what the hell he was lying on. 

A gasp tore from his throat, the sound of it almost delicate as he clamored up onto all fours and looked down at the dainty hands that were attached to thin wrists and small arms that held a particular whipcord strength. He immediately fumbled under his shirt, gasping as his palms closed around sizable breasts, nipples hardening instantly. He was a C-Cup easily. Delighted, he shoved a hand down his pants.

“I told you to wait until we’re back at the bunker before you start that shit.”

Dean flailed, falling over onto his hip and winced as his breasts swung freely, their weight tugging at the skin where they were attached. He looked up for the source of the high, clear voice and found who he assumed to be Sam, not nearly as tall as he was when he was a man but a good 6 feet still. His hair hung in chestnut waves down over his shoulders, reaching his rib cage, and even under the now baggy t-shirt he wore, Dean was happy to see that Sam had ended up with smaller boobs.

“Nice!” Dean’s eyes widened, his hand reaching to clutch at his throat at the husky alto of his voice now. “Wow.”

Sam’s bitch face as a female had a certain allure, his lips puckering in displeasure. It was kind of cute. Dean grinned at him.

“You’re like the girl next door, Sammy. All…” Dean gestured, and Sam rolled his eyes… her eyes? Dean was starting to get confused. 

“Can we just go back to the bunker, please?” Sam zipped her-his bag, and Dean sighed, throwing the blankets aside to spin himself out of bed. He was momentarily distracted by the long, elegant legs in front of him.

“Oh…” He touched his throat again, noting the appreciation in his own voice with its feminine lilt, and Dean knew that sound, having pleased many women in his lifetime. He gasped as he felt a sharp tug in his lower stomach, similar to the one he got on in his balls right before he started to chub up.

“Hey! Earth to Dean! Knock it off. Let’s go!” Sam shouldered her bag, and Dean winced, shoulders curling in. Every chastisement he’d ever received from a date or girlfriend ran through his head, and this was just _too_ trippy. 

“Alright, alright, keep your panties on, Samantha.” Dean stood and stretched. “Actually, we probably should stop for clothes…” 

Dean grabbed his jeans off the floor and pulled them up his legs over his boxers that were barely holding on to his hips. He could cinch his belt tight to keep them on, but his nipples were _definitely_ putting on a show under his tee. He turned to grab his bag and winced again as they swung with the movement of his body. 

“Are you saying you wanna go to the mall?” 

Dean looked up at his brother…sister? with wide eyes, the elated pep in her voice taking him back to being 16 and giving girls rides to the mall for quick make-out sessions in the backseat of the Impala. Sam’s face fell immediately after, and Dean realized it’d been sarcasm. Dean reached up to ruffle his hair, the thick strands hanging down to his shoulders in a sandy blond sheaf. He shook his head back and forth, feeling it brush against his neck. 

“Yeah,” Dean looked down, licking his lips at the sight of his own nipples through his shirt. “Gotta hit Victoria Secret.”

Sam groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by [Jensen Ackles at JIB5](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8CS1JMqsSY&feature=youtu.be&t=1359)
> 
> Reviews/Kudos are <3  
>  [Visit me on Tumblr](https://desti-feeels.tumblr.com)  
> 


	3. Dumb Girl Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets intimate with himself and learns that his new meatsuit comes with limitations. Sam reveals some hidden talents. Cas is along for the ride.

"Oh, come on, Sam! Don't be like that!"

" _ Three hours, Dean! Three fucking hours at the mall! _ Who even  _ are _ you?" Sam stomped down the steps to the bunker petulantly, her plastic bag of clothes banging against the railing and her legs.

"I'm your big  _ sister _ , Sammy, girl!" Dean giggled and stopped in wonder listening to the sound that would  _ definitely  _ get him free drinks later. He grunted as he hefted his bags, nearly toppling down the stairs under the weight. His arms were trembling, and it was really starting to annoy him. The bags weren't  _ that _ heavy.

"I can't believe you got us into- Oh…" Sam's voice cut off, and Dean, still struggling with his bags getting caught on the spindles of the staircase, bumped into Sam's back. Sam was able to catch herself, shuffling forward, but Dean was going down.

A shrill noise came out of his mouth, and had the disorienting feeling of urgency to help the woman who made the sound while also knowing it was him that made it. He braced himself for the collision with the floor when arms went around his ribs, and his face planted against a solid chest, the smell of cheap laundry soap filled his nostrils. 

"Cas, it's us, S-"

"I know. Were you cursed?" The voice rumbled against Dean's cheek, sending a shiver down his spine, and that tug behind his navel happened again, a shock of feel-good rolling up his spine as his thighs shifted against one another, the pressure of it against center a burst of stimulation.

Dean's fingers curled in the lapels of the trench coat, using it as leverage to pull back and look up and found himself staring right up into Castiel's deep blue eyes, his expression curious as his eyes roved over Dean's new face. Dean's lisp parted that tug of  _ want _ pulling in him again, and he'd always admitted that Cas was an attractive guy, had an attractive vessel, whatever, but he'd never felt that translate into attraction quite like it did at that moment.

"Hello, Dean." 

Dean gave a soft shiver and looked away, scrambling to get to his feet again, challenging in the boots that were several sizes too big now. He managed to plant his feet on solid ground, and Castiel finally released him, though his hands hovered as if Dean were something delicate and might collapse again at any moment. They were nearly the same height now, Dean maybe half an inch shorter. Seeing Castiel from that angle was disorienting.

"Dean…"

Sam's voice was a warning, and Dean blinked hard, looking over at his sister, who was giving him a half menacing half pleading look.  _ Don't do this _ .

"Uh, hey, Cas." Dean cleared his throat and dropped his hands to his sides, the sleeves of his flannel falling down over them as his hair fell into his eyes. He reached up to tuck it behind his ear, suddenly self-conscious under Castiel's penetrating gaze, something that happened often, but he felt it had new weight now for some reason.

"Dean made a bet with Rowena." Sam's voice caused both Dean and Castiel's head to turn to her, finding her exasperated, tugging up his jeans again only for them to slide immediately back down. "We're stuck like this for a month."

Castiel's low hum of contemplation rose goosebumps on Dean's skin. "What were the terms."

"If either of us taps out- "

"Which we  _ won't _ ." Dean insisted petulantly, and Cas glanced at him only to double back again, holding on his mouth, and Dean realized his lips were pursed. He'd done that in the mirror at the makeup counter, and the effect was enticing. Castiel looked away again.

“-Rowena gets the Black Grimoire.”

Castiel's head whipped back to Dean. " _ What? Dean!" _

A gasp tore from Dean's throat, looking down at himself as he felt something trickle down his inner thigh. He didn't have to pee, or at least he didn't think so. He kind of figured it'd feel the same, but maybe he was wrong. Did girls just leak like… oh.

"Gotta go!" Dean darted around Cas, a familiar excitement curling in his belly, and this time he felt it pulse between his legs, the sensation strange feeling it deep inside himself and not in his ball sack. 

"Cas, do yourself a favor and stay away from Dean's room for a while," he heard Sam mutter, and Dean's high pitched giggle wreaked havoc on the predominantly male part of his brain again.

He shuffled into his bedroom, shoving the door closed behind him and turning the lock for good measure though Sam was sure to steer clear. He dropped his bags on the floor and made a beeline for his bed, pausing at the foot to toe out of his boots and shed his layers. The only mirror Dean had was the one over the sink, and from where he stood, he could see himself from head to mid-thigh. Another trickle down his thigh to his inner knee, and he shifted to gather it on a finger, watching his own face as he brought it to his lips. He narrowed his eyes, savoring the taste on his tongue, and while not unpleasant, he was definitely going to increase his water intake and eat some fruit.

He moved closer to the mirror, a hand going up to cup one breast in his hand, and the double pleasure of watching himself while getting a handful of titty and the sensation of  _ feeling _ a hand mold his breast was disorienting. He rolled the nipple gently between thumb and forefinger and gasped, pressing his legs together tight, his thighs slick now. 

Dean let his hand trail down over a soft stomach, circling his own belly button with a forefinger before combing them into the light down at the apex of his legs. He slipped a finger between the lips, eyelids fluttering at fighting himself deliciously wet, the kind of wet he knew meant she was desperate for it. Another sharp tug in his abdomen and he began to search, finger gliding further back, and when he felt the rough pad of his forefinger skim over a tiny bundle of nerves, his legs damn near gave out. 

Dean knew where a woman's clit was, took pride that he managed to find it every time, and work it over to give whoever he was with the same amount of pleasure he was having. He had no idea it felt  _ this _ way. Tiny sparks shot from his groin out to his extremities, insides clamping in a way that was both pleasurable and maddening. He felt…empty.

Dean turned his back on the mirror, vaulting onto the bed and giving a sharp cry as his breasts protested the sudden movement before flopping onto his back. He settled, head digging back into his billow as he spread his legs wide, eyes landing on the door to his room visible between them. Dean adjusted his hips, canting them down at the angle he enjoyed most when going at a girl missionary, getting deep, the ridge at the head raking back and forth over the textured spot just inside and on top. This also seemed to drive  _ her _ to a pretty ecstatic state, so he figured it was a good place to start.

He snaked his hand between his legs - god, he really should a have gotten a mirror - and ran the tip of his middle finger between his lower lips, feeling it skim over the pucker of his entrance between slick folds, dragging up and his knee jerked as Dean ghosted over a small nub that felt like he'd taken a match to it, the pleasure so sharp it wasn't actually pleasurable. He frowned, prodding around it gently, moving between and against his folds before swirling over the top and stroking the skin that protected that nub. He gave a low moan deep in his throat and applied more pressure, rubbing the pad of his finger up and down. Dean marveled at how the pleasure stirred not just in his groin but down his thighs, up to his chest, occasionally shot out to the tips of his toes and fingers. 

Dean adjusted his hand, wanting to feel fuller and prodded at his entrance with the pads of two fingers and attempted to push in. He hissed and squirmed, retreating immediately. Okay, so even this wet foreplay was still a very much needed activity. Dean felt a surge of guilt over the half-hidden wince he'd seen on so many women's faces as he entered them, thinking they were trying to hide how much he was stretching them when really he was just hurting them. 

He shook his head and got back to business, teasing the entrance and going back to his clit multiple times before attempting to sink a single finger in. It felt full and uncomfortable. He tried curling his finger in a bit, searching for the g-spot but only succeeded in giving himself an incredibly uncomfortable cramp in his lower abdomen. 

He growled, readjusting his hand and bringing in his other to rub circles over his clit while his other attempted to breach himself slow and easy. After about twenty minutes, he was nearly ready to give up, removing his fingers and concentrating only on getting a good rhythm going with his fingers rubbing against his now soaked flesh. He was sure there was a small puddle under him on the bedspread now, so turned on but unable to get himself there. What an absolute load of horseshit.

He heard his phone buzz in the pocket of his jeans and sighed, distracted before he sat straight up and eyed the pile of fabric on the floor. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and launched himself up, arms immediately going to hold his chest as he hopped over to his pants and grabbed the phone. He didn't recognize the number, but he hadn't planned on answering anyway. He launched himself back onto the bed, wincing as his breasts were crushed under his body in an attempt to fumble into his bedside drawer. Shoving the lube aside, he grabbed one of his other phones, looking at them both contemplatively before punching the number of one into the other as he maneuvered back onto his back.

His stomach convulsed as he touched the back of the old flip phone against his clit, eyes rolling back in his head as a surge of pleasure, almost too much, felt like it was going to blow the top of his head off. The sound of his own voice, high and desperate as it was, did nothing to quell the rising tide in him. His toes began to curl, hips canting down as he pressed the plastic hard against his clit, sucking in a great breath as he was about to tip over the edge.

The vibration stopped abruptly, the call going to his voicemail, and he nearly sobbed, chucking the phone across the room and rubbed furiously at his clit, but it was gone. He flipped over, screaming into his pillow. Grumpy and unsatisfied, he sat up, wrinkling his nose at the uncomfortable mess between his legs. He reached back into the back of his bedside drawer, pulling out the towel he kept there for messes of this kind as a person of the opposite sex, and stood to wipe himself down, whimpering as the rough fabric stimulated his sensitive flesh. He almost contemplated laying back again but decided he couldn't handle another disappointment. He'd try again later. 

Dean went through the clothes he bought for his feminine self, still having trouble referring to himself as a "her" or a "she." Now that the cloud of sexual desire had soured, he felt strange and uncomfortable in this body, finding that he moved differently, his center of equilibrium a little off now that he didn't have something hanging between his legs but had two somethings attached to his chest. 

He decided on a white sundress, pulling it over his head and twisting around, trying to get the deep v of the cups to cover his breasts but found instead of revealing the flesh between them as he'd envisioned, he had cleavage deep enough to sink a ship. Looking at himself in the mirror, it was obscene, and the thought of  _ Slut _ echoed from his man-brain before he could process much of anything else. The frown that reflected back at him was confused and maybe even a little hurt. He tugged the dress off and went for another, putting on a bra which he found to be considerably harder than taking one off and tried another sundress, this one with something the store girl had called a heart neckline and found the effect much more to his liking. There was something flirty and innocent about it, and he grinned as he gave a spin, feeling the skirt lift from his thighs and giggled, slapping his hand over his mouth and blushing at the sound. 

Dean shoved his feet in a pair of sandals and exited his room, looking both ways before stepping out and making his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, moving to twist off the cap.

" _ Ow _ _ son of a bitch!" _ He slammed the bottle down, looking at the angry cut on his palm, already oozing blood, and he grabbed the bottle again, confirming that it indeed was still a twist cap.

"Dean? Are you alright?" 

Dean looked around the shelf over the kitchen island and found Castiel in the doorway, a look of concern on his face. Dean winced as his palm gave a particularly painful pulse. 

"You hurt yourself." It wasn't a question. Castiel was already making his way over, hand lifting, and Dean looked at him before he opened his hand palm up. Castiel moved as if to take it but instead just hovered a centimeter away, close enough to feel the heat of his skin before the heat of his grace glowed, and Dean felt the wound stitch itself.

Dean opened and closed his palm. "Thanks, Cas. Damn bottle-"

Castiel had reached for it, and Dean's voice cut off as Castiel twisted off the cap like it was nothing and set it on the counter, offering the bottle to Dean. Dean blinked at him, feeling the skin on his arms turn to gooseflesh as he took the bottle from the angel. 

"Uh… thanks." He cleared his throat, tucking his hair behind his ear. "Where's Sam?"

"In his room."

Dean blinked before bringing the bottle to his lips and snorted before taking a drink. "Hypocrite." Castiel's head tilted to the side in confusion. "Never mind. Hey, you wanna come out with us tonight? I wanna take my new meatsuit for a spin." Dean gave a little shimmy that caused Castiel's eyes to drop to his chest, and Dean felt a mixture of pride and self-consciousness. He hadn't meant it  _ that _ way. Castiel smiled finally.

"I'd like that." 

Dean clapped him hard on the bicep. "Hell yes. Gonna have the two hottest girls around on your arm tonight. Better suit up."

Castiel looked down at himself. "I'm already wearing a suit, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Okay, then maybe un-suit for you."

Castiel gave a nod and made off towards the dormitory. Dean grinned, watching him go, and began to suck down his beer. He stopped suddenly, looking at the bottle in his hand.

"What the hell am I pregaming for?" He muttered to himself. "Free drinks for me tonight!" Dean looked down, attempting the shimmy again, and he had to admit, it was pretty hypnotizing. 

After a shower that involved shaving a  _ lot _ of places Dean had never considered shaving before, another dive into his new wardrobe that fit him in a myriad of different ways despite all being the same size and about a thousand YouTube videos on makeup applications later, Dean was officially fed up with being a girl. 

Tottering down the hall on heels that were barely two inches high, he struggled his way to Sam's door. Dean paused, pressed his ear against the wood, and could make out the faintest whine. He rolled his eyes. Sam and his…er her… weird modestly about jacking off. Dean banged his fist on the door.

A shrill scream echoed from inside along with a thump, and Dean fought a chuckle. "Everything alright in there,  _ sis _ ?" 

A few more thumps before the door cracked open, and Dean was startled by the female face there, expecting his brother, and then he felt stupid. This  _ was _ his brother… sister? Whatever. Her cheeks were rosy, eyes glazed and fatigued, lips a little chapped while she sported a fuzzy bedhead. Dean smirked, and Sam blushed deeply, dropping her hazel eyes to the ground.

"What do you want?" She lifted her head, and her face scrunched, taking in Dean's face. "You look like a drag queen." Dean pouted about to retort, but Sam went on. "Actually drag queens are actually good at makeup. You look like a clown."

Dean scowled. "You try using liquid eyeliner, why don't you?"

Sam's bright burst of laughter and a sunny smile lit up her whole face, and despite hating her guts, Dean had to admit he found her pretty cute for a girl. Dean sighed.

"Come on, we're going out. Gonna get some free drinks." Dean gave Sam a sly smile, palming his own breasts and looking down. "These babies are gonna get me white girl wasted."

Sam looked apprehensive. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Like, shouldn't we, I dunno, get used to being girls before we go out in public?"

"If you want to stay home and masturbate, all you had to do was say so, Sam." Dean teased, and Sam's eyes widened, his face burning red. 

"No… just… no I'm just saying that… because we are… you know… new at this-"

"Oh come on, how hard can it be? Men throw themselves  _ all over _ pretty girls at the bar. It'll probably be the easiest damn thing we'll do as women." Dean tossed his hair over his shoulder.

Sam pressed her lips together and huffed a sigh out her nose. She looked back at her bed, which Dean peeked at and found it in complete disarray - was that a dildo? Sam shifted, and Dean was met with one small but pert breast and the straight line of Sam's side, a glimpse of hip bone and dark hair between her legs. The door was already closing. "I'll get dressed. And I'm redoing your makeup. You look ridiculous."

Thirty minutes later, Dean and Sam sat crosslegged on the end of Dean's bed, all of the makeup he bought scattered around them. Sam was delicately applying a series of purple shadows to Dean's lids. Dean opened when Sam asked and closed them again as requested, shifting impatiently. When he looked in the small compact mirror when Sam was done, Dean could hardly believe it. He gaped at Sam, who was shaking the liquid liner.

"How the  _ hell _ do you know how to do this?"

Sam gave a shrug, lifting the wand of the liner, and Dean shut his eyes. "Jess broke her wrist when we first moved in together and couldn't do it herself. It's kinda like riding a bike, I guess. Open."

Dean opened his eyes, and it was strange to have a girl so close to his face and not kiss her, to have her eyes not holding his but examining his face closely with scrupulous criticism. Sam gave a short nod and reached for a tube of mascara. Dean watched her breasts move under her shirt and knew she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Dean asked, and Sam froze, midway through pulling the wand out.

"Uh…" she gave a sheepish chuckle and a shrug of her shoulder, a blush heating her cheeks. "I mean, yeah, I guess. Look up," She gestured with the wand, and Dean tipped his head back. "No, no, just with your eyes."

"Oh." Dean tilted his head back forward again and gazed at the ceiling. "So I think you're kinda hot too. Or… well… cute, I guess? I mean, not really my type." 

Sam rolled her eyes as she brought the wand back to gather more mascara from the tube. "Yeah yeah. I got no boobs and no ass. I get it."

"But also like… you're my brother? Er… sister… so…"

Sam peered at him. "Yeah… Look up again." 

Dean did as he was told. "So, like, normally, I'd wanna fuck someone who looks like you."

Sam snorted. "But I'm your brother."

"Sister." Dean corrected, and Sam rolled her eyes again.

"Whatever."

"Do you think of yourself as a girl?"

Sam finally replaced the wand in the tube, and Dean blinked a few times, His eyelids felt heavy, and he could feel the tips of his eyelashes brush his brow bone. He rolled his eyes around in his head, feeling his lashes crowding his vision.

"No, I really don't. Like, I'm still a dude in here." Sam gave a shrug, looking down at his body.

"Do you think of  _ me _ as a girl?" Dean asked and Sam's face scrunched in thought.

"Kind of?" She shook her head. "It's kind of weird thinking of you as a "he" when you're…." She gestured at Dean, and Dean threw his arms out.

" _ Exactly _ ." He sighed. "Okay, thank you. This whole thing is just fucking weird."

Sam snorted a laugh and shook her head, hazel eyes sparkling. "Yeah. Honestly, it's not so bad." She looked down at herself and gave another shrug.

There was a soft knock on the door frame, and Sam's and Dean's heads turned to find Castiel standing awkwardly in the doorway. Dean's jaw dropped, and Sam's eyebrows lifted in surprise as they took in the black motorcycle boots and dark jeans, blue button-down tight across his chest, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Wow, lookin' good, Cas," Sam said, sliding off the bed and sauntering over. Castiel watched the sinuous movement of her body, and Dean felt a surge of jealousy he immediately wrote off as indigestion. 

"Yeah, nice." Dean uncurled his legs from under him, tugging at the hem of his sundress and giving Cas a flash of the pink panties underneath. Castiel politely looked down and cleared his throat.

"Thank you. You're both… lovely."

"Aw, ain't he sweet?" Dean teased, sashaying closer and stepping right into Castiel's personal space. Castiel didn't move, and Dean almost rolled his eyes. Of course, close proximity didn't rattle Cas. Dude had zero boundaries.

"Lemme just change into some real clothes." Sam nudged past Castiel, shuffling her way down the hall to her room. 

Castiel was looking into Dean's room, taking in the mess of makeup on the bed, and Dean felt almost self-conscious about it, not wanting Cas to see his space though Cas had been in there a million times. Probably even spent a night or several in there without Dean knowing it. He'd caught Castiel watching him sleep enough times; he didn't like to think about all the times he  _ hadn't _ caught him. Dean shook his head and shifted closer to Castiel still, crowding him so that he shuffled back a bit, and Dean was able to pull his door closed behind him. But now he was trapped between the wood and Castiel's body. Dean's breasts brushed against the angel's chest when either of them breathed.

"How are you, Dean?"

Dean swallowed hard, finding himself tipping his gaze up a bit to look at Cas, whereas before he had to slant his eyes down. It was only the slightest change, but he found it disorienting. Just like he found the fact that Castiel wasn't smaller than him anymore, the breadth of his shoulders nearly matching Dean's. Dean knew he was bigger boned for a woman, broader backed with thicker thighs; however, he got the distinct feeling that if Cas really wanted to toss Dean over his shoulder and carry him off somewhere, Cas would be able to do it. Not that he couldn't before, but at least Dean could forget about it most of the time.

Dean shook his head. "Uh. Good. I'm… fine. How… how are you?"

"I'm well." Castiel gave him a serene smile, and Dean returned it weakly. 

"Alright, let's get this over with." 

Sam was ambling towards them again, wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a flannel button-down with only the middle two buttons fastened to reveal the black tank top underneath. She'd thrown her hair up into a messy bun, a few pieces hanging artfully around her face and neck, and kohled her eyes just along the lash lines, applying mascara to give them definition. Her lips were a subtle pink but not glistening like Dean's were.

"That's what you're wearing?" Dean asked with a lifted brow.

Sam gave him a patient look. "I don't need free drinks, Dean."

Dean snorted. "You just don't want the humiliation of knowing they'll all be into  _ me _ and not  _ you _ ."

"I don't think that's true." Both girls turned to look at Castiel, who shrugged. "You're both attractive in different ways."

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Cas. You're gonna be my date for the night." Sam slipped her arm through Castiel's, and Cas looked downright shocked as he allowed himself to be drug away by the taller woman.

Dean felt a flare of jealousy that threatened to consume him as he stomped after but made a note to grab some Tums on the way home. This dumb girl body kept getting wicked heartburn. 


	4. Girls' Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will goes to the local watering hole and Dean gets in over his head.

When they arrived at the Rusty Spur, all eyes in the room turned to the strangers that entered, a buxom blond with roving eyes and a sweet looking brunette who seemed more than friendly with the guy that sometimes came in with the Winchester brothers. Dean made his way over to the bar, adding a little extra sway to his hips and soaking up the attention that came his way. Sam and Cas grabbed a high top near the dartboards and chatted as they waited for a waitress.

Dean rested his elbows on the bar top, leaning over to try and catch the bartender’s eye.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Dean shivered, feeling hot breath on his ear and a large palm press against his lower back.

Dean peeked over his shoulder and recognized a guy from town, not half bad looking for a dude. Dean gave him a smirk. “Hey yourself.”

“Haven’t seen you here before.”

Dean’s head turned to the bartender again, trying to catch her eyes. He’d never had trouble ordering before. “Just visiting.” Dean turned to look at him again. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?”

The man guffawed at the lame joke, and inside, Dean felt himself preen under the attention. “Don’t mind Julie there. She’s jealous.” 

Dean tensed as the guy leaned into him, pressing his body fully against Dean’s back and essentially trapping him against the bar as he reached around to flag down the barmaid. Dean could feel every breath the guy took, even the soft weight of his cock in his pants. Dean fought the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

“Easy tiger,” Dean rolled his shoulders and slipped to the side, soothing his rejection with a smooth smile. “You haven’t even bought me a drink yet.”

The guy’s smile was predatory. “And you haven’t even told me your name.”

Dean arched an eyebrow and gave a nod of concession. He offered his hand. “It’s Dea…” he coughed. “Uh, Diana. Diana. Nice to meet you. And you are?”

“Winston.” His giant hand closed around Dean’s smaller one, squeezing just a little too hard, but Dean cranked back. Winston laughed.

“You’re feisty.”

“So, I’ve been told.” Dean gave a demure shrug, seeing the bartender approaching out of the corner of his eyes. “Oh, hey. Can I get a draft when you get the chance? 20 ounce is good.”

She gave Dean a tense smile and began to pour. “Anything for you, Winston?”

“Jack Daniels. Neat.” Winston had leaned back into Dean’s personal space again, eyes roving over his face. Julie set his beer down in front of him, and Dean reached for it giving the barmaid a wink. She just rolled her eyes. Dean shrugged, taking a sip, and when he turned, Winston’s face was right on the other side of his glass.

“What brings you to Lebanon, Diana?”

#

It became abundantly clear fairly quickly that Dean has made a tactical error. It was fun at first, chatting with Winston for the duration of his beer, then moving on to a younger guy named Josh, who bought him another and a shot of Patron for a kiss. The poor kid looked like Dean had canceled Christmas when he demurely pecked the guy’s cheek. But it got him another beer and another shot before he sidled over to the jukebox, and Winston was back, dropping quarters in so Dean could load up some Zepplin tracks. 

He was pleasantly buzzed when he begged off to check in with Sam and Cas, both perched on barstools with beers in hand. Dean hopped up on an empty stool and leaned towards Cas, giving him a wide smile.

“Buy me a drink, Cas?” Dean fluttered his lashes, and Castiel’s focus was entirely on him, eyes locked as he lifted a casual hand in the air. 

“Of course, Dean.” 

The waitress was beside them before Dean had a chance to tear his eyes away, catching on Sam’s as he turned his head and the look on his sister’s face let him know that they’d done that thing again where they stared at each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist. It sounded a lot more chick-flicky than it actually was, Dean told himself regularly. They’re best friends after all. The waitress’ eyes were on Castiel, who nodded his head at Dean. She gave Dean a strained smile.

“What can I get for you?”

“Another draft?” 

Dean turned and found Winston standing next to the waitress who glanced between the two, apprehension marring her brow for a split second before she smiled up at Winston. Dean fought the roll of his eyes but smiled prettily at Winston and then the waitress.

“Yes, but it’s on his tab.” Dean jutted a thumb at Castiel, and Winston’s lecherous gaze turned sour as his eyes fell on Cas, who merely looked back, impassive as always. “Sorry bud, gotta spend some time with those that brung me. You understand.” 

Winston shifted on his feet. “Sure. Sure. Who might you be, pretty lady.” Winston offered his hand to Sam, who eyed it for a minute before giving in to the social pressure of the handshake.

“Oh this is my sister. Samantha.” Dean smirked when Sam’s head whipped to glare at him. “And this is Cas.” Dean jutted his thumb at Castiel again, who gave a slow nod of acknowledgment then brought this beer to his lips, never taking his eyes off Winston.

“Sisters huh?” Winston licked his lips, and Dean wanted to laugh but covered his mouth with his hand instead, catching sight of the waitress as she came over with his beer and another Jack Daniels for Winston. “I’m really into sisters right now.”

Dean squinted at him. Did this guy just imply that… ew. Dean shook his head, taking a drink of his beer. Winston leaned into Sam’s personal space, and something inside Dean stood at attention. 

“‘ey.” Dean reached out, the back of his hand thunking hard on Winston’s bicep, and Winston turned, looking down at where he’d been hit and then at Dean’s face, amusement painting his features. “Thanks for the drink, but we’re trying to catch up here. You understand,” Dean smiled prettily again, and Winston’s eyes turned flat, chin jutting out in defiance. 

Dean raised his own chin, green eyes sparking, and he waited for the look of fear to flit across the other man’s face. Instead, Winston gave him a strained smile. His palmed tapped the tabletop as he made eye contact with everyone seated there. “Nice meeting you. Especially you.” He cocked a finger gun at Dean, who grinned, shooting one right back at him, held it until Winston was out of earshot before sagging as if his strings had been cut.

“Jeez.” Dean brought his beer to his lips, eyes roving the crowd. He was pleasantly buzzed and mildly surprised over the fact. It took him a good five or six before he started feeling like dancing, and his toes were already tapping on his barstool. It was almost enough to take his mind off how the lace of his bra was chaffing his skin, the underwire cutting into the crease under his breasts.

“You wanna dance, Sammy?” 

Sam’s eyebrows lifted, her hazel eyes cutting to Castiel. “How many have you had.”

“Oh shut up.” Dean scrunched his nose at her. “Cas? Whatdya say?”

“Alright.” Castiel was already slipping off his barstool, sucking down the last of his beer. Sam looked up at him, startled, a bright laugh escaping her mouth.

“You dance, Cas?”

“Nora taught me. I’m not very good.” Castiel gave an unaffected shrug, and Dean found himself grinning. 

“Come on, Sammy.” Dean gripped her hand and dragged her off her barstool, Cas following behind them as they made their way to the dance floor.

Castiel was, in fact, a terrible dancer, but Dean had never seen him smile or laugh that much in the ten years he’d known him. Sam was joyous too, raising her hands above her head and shimmying her hips. They took turns showing off their worst moves; the sprinkler, the body roll, The Carlton. They even stayed out on the floor for Boot Scootin’ Boogie, which Cas mostly got the hang of. Then Winston was back as a slow track came on, Sam and Castiel partnering up to sway to the music. It was weird to see Cas with another woman, especially knowing that woman was actually his brother.

“Been dreaming of having you in my arms all night.” 

Dean blinked, looking up at Winston and the leer on his face, which Dean assumed was meant to be sexy, was pretty creepy. “Heh, well, dreams do come true, I guess.”

Winston’s eyebrows rose. “Oh well, I got a few more dreams I can make a reality.” Dean’s back went rigid as Winston’s hand drifted south, and surely this guy wasn’t going to-

“Whoa there, bud!” Dean’s hands planted on Winston’s chest, and Dean was surprised when he didn’t move the other man at all. Like, at. All. Dean frowned, applying more pressure.

Winston laughed and, to Dean’s surprise, pulled him in closer. “What? I’m just gettin’ friendly. Don’t act like that’s not what you’re here for tonight.” 

Dean snorted. “Um, actually-“

“Come on, Diana!” Winston’s voice was cajoling, and Dean wanted to punch the know-it-all smirk right off the dude’s face. “I buy you a drink… I get you a couple-a songs on the juke…” 

Dean’s eyes bugged as he felt rough fingertips whisper across the back of his thigh beneath the hem of his dress and then actually begin to move _up_. Dean looked up at Winston and tried his best for a smile.

“You better get your hand out from under my dress before I break it off and shove it down your throat.”

Winston let out a guffaw, his arm tightening around Dean’s waist and well… if that’s the way the guy wanted it. Dean brought his elbow down and flung it out like a chicken wing in an attempt to fling the man’s arm off, but it seemed that this wasn’t Winston’s first rodeo. He didn’t budge, arm tightening around Dean’s waist and pulled him flush against him. Dean’s hands planted against his chest, and he pressed with all his strength, but the man didn’t move. Finally, he reared back and head-butted the guy right in the face.

Winston cursed, flailing backward as he grabbed his nose, and Dean backpedaled, putting a fair amount of space between them. “ _You bitch_.”

Dean openly laughed, shaking his head. “Man, I warned y-“His sentence cut off in a squelch as the man moved faster than Dean anticipated, his large hand clamping around Dean’s neck, and suddenly Dean couldn’t breathe. 

Dean attempted a twist but couldn’t get loose and only managed to give himself a rub burn. He reared back, ready to sock this asshole and break a few teeth along with that nose, but Winston was holding him at arm’s length, something that usually wasn’t an issue, but Dean’s arms were shorter than they used to be. He choked, vision starting to darken at the edges when he felt soft hands wrap around his biceps and the crack of a wrist breaking accompanied the hard jerk that pulled him down and forward. 

Dean sucked in a great breath, the hands on his arms releasing him as he face-planted into a hard chest, strong arms wrapping under his and lifting him off his feet. It was instinct for his legs to wrap around the waist, one arm going under Dean to support his weight, the hot skin of a palm searing against Dean’s thigh as it gripped to hold him in place. Dean’s arms scrambled around bony shoulders, chin tucking over to gasp great, deep breaths, and his heart felt like it was trying to escape his body. 

His vision was splotchy at best, and he was confused by the tall brunette following them, her hand planted on the shoulder blade below Dean’s own hand. When was the last time he’d been carried? She watched a few locals step up to Winston, who was on the floor, cradling his broken wrist and screaming obscenities at them. Dean shivered, arms tightening, and the hand on his thigh squeezed, the one splayed between his shoulder blades moving up to dig into his hair, and he turned his face into his savior’s neck, breathing in the clean scent of skin and rain. 

They were moving down the hall towards the exit when Dean looked up again, eyes meeting the brunette’s, and her mouth was twisted in a rage, gaze flat and murderous. It all came back instantly, Dean’s hand reaching out, and Sam took it, gripping it tightly in hers as they burst into the Kansas night, wind sweeping Dean’s hair off his neck and making him shiver. 

Sam rushed ahead, flinging open the driver’s side back door before moving to climb in the driver’s seat. Dean was transferred from warm arms to cold vinyl with a sense of care he’d never experienced before - John usually dumped them in with barely a thought and had the door swinging closed whether there was a limb in the way or not. The engine roared to life as Castiel slid in next to him, barely getting the door closed before Sam took off like a shot, gravel spraying in their wake.

“ _Dean_.” 

Castiel’s voice held that earnestness that made Dean quiver and check himself for injuries. His own hands felt strange, patting at his abdomen and chest, running down each arm. He felt Castiel’s hand cup the back of his head, and Dean immediately tipped his head back, feeling fingertips feather-light along his bruised and burning flesh. 

“Shit.” Dean swallowed thickly, his voice a rasp behind the pain at the base of his throat. His hyoid bone was probably broken. Fuck, that shit always took forever to heal. 

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was calmer this time, and Dean gave a shuddering breath as he felt Castiel’s hand slip under his hair and cup the back of his neck.

“Is she okay?” Sam’s voice was high and trembling, and she cleared her throat. Dean snorted and immediately regretted it. Who was she calling _she?_

“I think so. Does your head hurt?”

Dean looked up into Castiel’s face, blue eyes flaring under the headlights of a passing car before going dark. Dean had to resist the urge to shift closer. “Y-yeah, man. I’m good. Get… get offa me.”

Dean gave Cas a soft nudge of his palms, and Castiel slid away immediately, putting a good foot of vinyl seat between them. Dean let out a relieved breath. 

Then he was _pissed._

“ _What the fuck was wrong with that guy?_ ”

Sam’s eyes flicked to his in the rearview. “Told you trying to get free drinks was a bad idea.”

Dean’s jaw went slack. “ _He bought me_ one _drink!_ ” Dean’s wide eyes moved to Castiel, who was observing him. 

Sam snorted. “Dean you know how some guys are. They buy a girl a drink they think they owe them.” Sam lifted a hand from the wheel. “Hell, you and I have both played boyfriend to get girls away from creeps like that. Did you think it was gonna be different because it’s you?”

“ _Well it fucking should be. I’ve killed Hitler. Those fuckers should be terrified of me. In fact, most of them_ are!”

“They don’t know that!” Sam’s voice practically squeaked as her volume rose. “They’re afraid of Dean Winchester, Six-Foot-Two and Two-Twenty. Not… _Diana_ who’s maybe a buck twenty soaking wet.”

Dean looked down at his female body and found his legs splayed in his regular backseat sprawl; dress hiked up his thighs. He closed them, immediately tugging at the hem angrily.

“You’re saying I ain’t scary as a girl?”

Sam snorted. “Oh you’re terrifying as always, sis. It just inspires a completely different reaction.”

“And what reaction is that?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and winced at the pressure it put on his breasts. Sam shook her head and twisted her hands on the wheel. “ _What_!”

“Well that you need to be handled and calmed down.”

Dean blinked forward, reaching under the strap of his dress to itch at where the strap of his bra was digging into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I needed to calm down? I gave him very clear signals that I was _not_ interested _, and he stuck his hand up my dress anyway!”_

Sam’s eyes bulged, foot slipping off the gas, and the Impala slowed as Castiel’s hand flew out to grip the seatback in front of him. “Turn around, Sam.”

Castiel’s voice was brimstone and fire, and Dean glanced over, seeing his eyes glowing electric blue in the dim light of the dashboard. Sam gulped and put her foot back on the gas, speeding up.

“No, we just need to go home.”

“Sam Winchester.”

Dean covered his ears, the pressure on his eardrums, making him nauseous. He felt something shift behind his head as lightning flashed around them, and he turned his head just in time to see shadowy black feathers curling around his shoulder. A whisper of wind moved the hair at his chin, and he thought he felt feathers brush the cap of his shoulder. 

“Cas, you can’t smite an entire bar. It’ll end up in the news.”

Sam’s voice was stern, and Dean felt his spine straighten, catching Castiel’s posture stiffening as well. A memory of Mary Winchester played in his mind, her pulling his tiny three-year-old body back against her chest as his ball disappeared under the wheels of a pick-up rolling down their street. _Dean, you can’t run into the street. You’ll end up flat as a pancake._ Dean had responded that he liked pancakes. A spastic chuckle bubbled past his lips, and it hurt his throat.

Castiel had already settled back against his seat, face stormy as he glared out his window, the air crackling with his displeasure. Dean felt himself wiggle closer, so they were pressed shoulder to shoulder, and Castiel’s eyes slanted towards him, unamused, but he huffed, muscles loosening as they sped through the black night.


	5. Life Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shine has officially worn off for Dean and Sam's having a bad day but they've got a job to do.

Ten days in and Dean had had just about enough of being a girl. He’d wildly underestimated the common decency of the male gender, and finding out that he was a perfect fucking gentleman, even with his lies about his identity and a very clear goal of  _ Get off and get out _ , was nearly as defeating as finding out angels were dicks. The flirty dresses had been shoved into the back of his closet, replaced by jeans and shirts from goodwill, all a size too big. He  _ still _ got approached at least once every time he left the bunker. So he gave up makeup, tied his hair in a knot on his head - thanks for that tutorial, Sam - but it was hit or miss, especially if he was in the Impala.

He had to admit that if he saw a woman in a car like Baby, he’d follow his dick right over, might even use the “Is this your boyfriend’s car?” line to fish for information if she wasn’t wearing a ring. Still, he absolutely  _ would not _ start mansplaining to her about how her own car worked! The truly sad part was that most of the time, the poor bastards had no clue what they were saying, and when Dean called them out on it,  _ they managed to turn it into a come-on, asking him to teach them about it in the back seat. _

Dean was absolutely disgusted. The women were right. Most men were total creepers.

“Now, your face is way too pretty to be frowning like that.”

Dean fought the urge to punch the guy right in the throat, grabbing up a bag of potatoes and dropping it in the cart. His arm absolutely did not shake under the weight of a twenty-five-pound bag of potatoes.

“Not today, buddy.” Dean went to push his cart further down the aisle, and the asshole stepped right in front of him, blocking his path.

“Don’t be like that!” The guy looked friendly enough, big smile and floppy hair, he looked a little like Sam when he was younger. “I’m Gavin.” He offered his hand.

Dean eyed it and wanted to ram the kid with his cart, but he didn’t want to risk the consequences given his past experience. They needed supplies, and getting kicked out of this grocery store, or worse, having this wholesome-looking kid go dark side on him, was not on his agenda for the day. He offered his hand.

“Diana.”

“Diana, that’s such a lovely name! Goddess of the hunt, am I right?” Gavin smiled, and Dean felt his own lips twitch up a bit.

“Yes. Yeah.” Dean pulled back his hand and gave a shrug. Gavin leaned on the end of his cart.

“I love all that mythology stuff.” Gavin grabbed the bill of his hat and adjusted it on his head, revealing a mess of hair underneath that he ran his hand through before replacing it and grinning up at Dean. “I mean, I’m just a dumb farmhand, but I like the stories.”

“Farming ain’t nothing to spit at,” Dean replied, and Gavin seemed to puff up at the praise, straightening up and planting a boot on the lower tray. Dean eyed it, knowing it was probably an unconscious gesture, but he still felt trapped.

“What do you do, Diana?” Gavin locked his arms on the end of the cart and gave Dean a quick once over before meeting his eyes again, eyes a little lustful but still more friendly than anything else.

“Oh, I’m-“

“They didn’t have the hot sauce you like, but this one has the same molecular structure, so it should suffice.”

Dean turned to look over his shoulder and jumped as Castiel pressed flush to his back, reaching around him to place the small bottle in the cart. The angel turned his head, and their noses nearly brushed. Dean was going to have to have the personal space conversation with him.  _ Again _ .

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dean turned to find Gavin had stepped back with his palms raised. “Didn’t realize… uh you…” Gavin reached up and scratched at his ear as he gestured to Dean’s hands on the cart handle. “You weren’t wearing a ring.” Dean looked down and then back up, his mouth open. Gavin shrugged. “Lucky guy.” Gavin shot Dean a wink before sauntering off, and Dean could only watch him go.

“Were you being propositioned again?” Castiel’s voice was more bored than annoyed, but Dean’s head whipped to look at him.

“Yeah! I mean, no. I mean, he was just chatting me up, like… nicely and I guess he thought we were… erm…” Dean felt his cheeks heat when he looked over his shoulder and found Castiel still right there. He cleared his throat and slipped out from behind the cart. “Get the rest of the vegetables, will ya? I gotta grab something on the other side of the store.”

When Dean returned to the bunker, Sam was in sweatpants and his favorite t-shirt from when he was still a guy, pouring over some books in the library. Dean hefted the bags in his hands onto the map table, arms trembling from the weight, and shook them out as he snatched the small plastic sack he was looking for. Castiel set his own bags down next to Dean’s, gathering the other handles and lifting them along with his own before traipsing off to the kitchen. Dean glared after him, muttering a “show off” before he skipped over to Sam.

“I think I’ve found the answer to our man troubles, Sammy.”

Sam glanced up as Dean slammed down a small velvet box in front of her book. Sam blinked at it then went back to the text. “We tried being lesbians, Dean. They just thought it was hot and wanted to watch.”

Dean gave her a shove and pulled out the other velvet box from the bag. “No, no. Wedding rings! Don’t you scan a girl’s finger before you start talking to her?”

Sam languidly turned a page. “At a bar, yes. In general, no.”

“Yeah, well, apparently we are the only dudes that  _ don’t _ creep on women no matter the location.” Dean opened his box and showed it to Sam. “Nice, huh? Only thirty bucks!”

Sam glanced at it and huffed a laugh, reaching for his own box. He lifted his brows when he opened it. “Nice.”

“You okay with that one? I kinda liked the single solitaire, but if you want it, I don’t really care.” Dean gave a shrug. Sam eyed it.

“Nah, this one is fine.” Sam plucked it out and slipped it on the ring finger of his left hand, wiggling his fingers so that it shimmered in the light. “The infinity band is nice.”

“Only the best for you, darlin’” Dean leaned down and planted a wet kiss on Sam’s cheek, which she rubbed away crabbily. “Mine came with a matching band for the guy. I gave it to Cas.”

Sam had just taken a sip of her soda when she spit it all over the books in front of her. Dean patted her back in alarm as she coughed. “You gave Cas a wedding band?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, I figured he could be whoever’s husband needs him ya know.” Sam blinked up at him. “What?!”

Sam dropped her gaze back to the book in front of her, wiping it with the bottom of her t-shirt. “Nothing. Uh, we got a case.”

#

Dean’s alarm had been blaring for over an hour, and he was really starting to get sick of listening to it. He was bundled and warm in his bed, the sounds of his brother-  _ sister _ and best friend moving around, getting ready for the day soothing him into a half doze. Until his door banged open, the light from the hallway spilling across his face, making him squint the mess of hair in his face his only defense.

“Are you getting up soon?” Sam’s voice held a distinct edge, one that implied Dean better get up  _ now _ if he didn’t want a cold beer bottle rolled into bed with him. Dean grumbled something inaudible, and he heard Sam sigh. “ _ You’re _ the one who wanted to leave at 8, Dean.”

Dean groaned softly, rolling towards the side of the bed.

“Did you change your mind at some point after we went to bed? Because you could have texted-“

“I’m getting up, Sam!” Dean threw the blanket off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face hard then batting his hair back with a growl. “Did you make coffee?”

When Sam didn’t answer, Dean looked over and found her standing rigid in his doorway, face pinched. She swallowed as if rallying her patience. “Cas made coffee an hour ago - when you were supposed to get up, but it’s probably cold now.”

“Well, can you warm it up while I take a shower?”

Sam’s mouth popped open. “You have to take a  _ shower _ ?”

“Yes, I always take a shower in the morning.”

Sam pressed her fingers between her eyebrows as if Dean were trying every ounce of her patience. “Yeah, but as a  _ girl _ , it takes you 400 times longer to get ready.”

“It does not.” Dean waved a hand at her, shuffling over to the sink and reaching for his toothbrush, one hand going between his legs to adjust… nothing. He still couldn’t get used to not having a dick.

“Can’t you just… wait until we stop for the night?”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping for the night.” Dean shoved his toothbrush in his mouth and glanced over at Sam, whose bitchface would make an appearance in 5…4…3…2...

“You wanna drive all the way through to California. In a single day.”

Dean shrugged, scrubbing at his teeth. “‘hy ‘ot? Z’only dwenny-ay ‘ours or zo.” Dean leaned over to spit.

Sam huffed, then huffed again. “So, you wanna just drive through the night, switching off.”

Dean blinked at her wiping his mouth and doing a double-take at himself in the mirror, startled by the woman looking back at him. He hated the disorientation that came with mornings now, having to remind himself again and again that this was temporary, the anxious itch of  _ wrong  _ vibrating under his skin and the sense of loss as he had to reconcile himself in this strange body.

“We do it all the time, Sam.” Dean sighed finally and cut his eyes at her.

“Yeah, and it  _ sucks! _ ”

Dean blinked at her, finding her glaring at him, arms crossed over her chest now. “Okay, what is your deal?”

Sam’s face went blank, and she blinked before heaving a sigh, shoulders sagging. “Nothing. Sorry, just…” She winced, stretching her back as she twisted her torso from one side to the other. “I guess I’m just really tired.”

“Yeah, me too, hence oversleeping. I’m sorry, okay. Just lemme…” Dean looked around and grabbed the duffle on his chair, “Get dressed and throw some clothes in here and we can go.”

A feebler smile pulled at Sam’s lips. “Okay,… thanks.” Her hand patted the doorframe as she pushed off it to leave. “And… sorry… for being an asshole.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m used to it.”

Dean began stuffing items in his duffle at random, feeling around inside for his DOP kit and discerning that it was indeed still in there, grabbed a shirt off a hanger while reaching for his deodorant.

Dean shucked out of his old AC/DC shirt he’d been using to sleep in since it was entirely too big to wear as a regular shirt. He’d bought a girl version, but it was scratchy and cheap, a novelty shirt rather than a band tee also a little short, exposing his midriff whenever he lifted his arms over his head. Dean applied deodorant quickly and whined as he reluctantly traded the shirt in his hand for the bra off the back of the chair and went through the arduous task of strapping himself down for the day. He couldn’t stop himself from admiring the effect as he adjusted his breasts to fit perfectly into the cups. He poked experimentally at a nipple. God, it’d been nearly two weeks since he’d gotten off. Dean tried not to think about the Amazon package waiting for him in their P.O. Box in town. He brushed his fingertips lightly over a nipple again and wondered if he could make a quick pitstop to pick it up.

The sound of a throat clearing made him lift his head, and he found Castiel in the doorway, a steaming mug in his hand while he looked resolutely at the floor. Dean didn’t even bother to hide his moan as he shuffled over with outstretched hands. Castiel’s ears were pink as he glanced up just long enough to ascertain that Dean had a good grip on the ceramic before he averted his gaze again.

“Good morning, Dean. I’m sorry your door was open, and I didn’t realize…”

Dean was just about to take a sip when he looked up over the lip of the mug and blinked at the top of Castiel’s head, his face still angled resolutely at the floor. That’s when Dean remembered he was in his underwear, and though Cas had popped in on him in his boxers (and less, but Dean made him agree that never actually happened, so Dean can’t exactly go back on his own rule), the angel hadn’t seen him like  _ this. _

“Oh… uh,” Dean fought a blush, setting the coffee down and ripping the shirt over his head. “Yeah, sorry.” He looked around frantically before grabbing up a pair of jeans from the floor and shimmying into them. “Okay, I’m decent.”

Castiel looked up then and gave him a tense smile. “You look very nice, Dean.”

Dean glanced at the mirror over the sink, finding a woman in a too-short t-shirt and tight jeans with tangled hair and a pillow crease down one side of her face. He winced, looking away and grappling on his desk for the packet of hair ties only to find it empty. He groaned but bent to flip his head over anyway, a trick Sam had shown him.

“Cas find me a hair tie, would you.” He was gathering up his thick locks, the ends just one giant tangle, but he’d deal with that later. He saw Cas shift out of the corner of his eye, hand dipping into the pocket of his trench and producing a tan elastic, shuffling forward to offer it to Dean. Dean snorted. “What, you just store those in your pockets now?”

“I find them all over the bunker, and you or Sam is always looking for one.”

Dean came back up, the motion almost dizzying as he came face to face with Castiel just in time to see him shrug. Dean snorted, wrapping his hair once, then twice and a third time without pulling it all the way through so that a thick bun fanned the top of his head. He walked towards the mirror, turning his face this way and that, smoothing his hands over the lumps. He sighed.

“You ready to hit the road?” Dean turned back to grab his duffle, zipping it quickly before throwing it over his shoulder.

“Yes, but Sam is making breakfast.”

Dean rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh as he waved Cas out of the way, the angel stepping aside to allow past. Cas followed Dean out of the dormitories to the kitchen where Sam stood at the stove, nudging eggs in a pan. Dean held out a hand, spearing her with a perturbed expression. Sam frowned.

“I thought you were taking a shower.”

“Yeah, well, we were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago, so I gave up hygiene for the sake of the schedule.” Dean eyed the pan. “I see the effort was futile, however.”

Sam grit her teeth and snatched the pan from the stove, stomping over to the trash, and before Dean could stop her, she dumped the contents in the bin. Dean’s eyes were wide as she stomped back over to the stove, dropping the pan onto a burner before turning off the one she’d been using. She turned to face Dean and Castiel, giving them a sunny smile.

“I’m ready when you guys are.”

“Uh… you could have finished your breakfast,” Dean said slowly. “I’m pretty sure that Wendigo ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Sam threw her hands in the air. “ _ Jesus _ , I just can’t fucking win with you.” Sam stomped towards the other doorway, the sound of her boots echoing down the hall.

Dean looked at Castiel, who was staring back at him wide-eyed. Dean snorted. “What crawled up  _ her _ ass?” Castiel merely shrugged.

#

They stopped for coffee and bagels on the way out of town, Dean munching happily behind the wheel, humming along to the radio. Sam poked disinterestedly at her fruit cup mouth, turned down in a frown. Dean licked cream cheese from his lips, eyes flicking to his sister.

“Something wrong with your fruit cup, Princess?”

Sam looked up, eyes large before she looked down at it again, spearing a blueberry. “No, it’s fine… good, I mean. Thanks for… you know…”

“‘Course.” Dean shrugged, grinning over at her. “What are big sisters for?”

Sam’s lips twitched with a smile. “Stinking up the car with an onion bagel during hour one of a 28-hour car ride.”

“Oh yeah, okay, so it’s twenty-eight-ish hours to Gasquet. The way I see it, we drive the first leg, stop after we get through Salt Lake-” 

Sam frowned. “I thought we were driving straight through.”

Dean paused, trying to keep his voice calm. “You said you didn’t  _ want _ to drive straight through.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Dean blinked over at her. “Uh… yeah, you did. It was barely an hour ago.”

“No,” Sam said, tilting her head with forced patience. “I told you driving straight through sucked. I didn’t ask you to change the plan.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I’d be a nice guy and accommodate you.” Sam sighed, flopping back against the seat in exasperation, and Dean’s shoulders scrunched up to his ears. “ _ What _ !?”

Sam shook her head, glaring out the window for a moment before taking a breath and angling her head back towards him. “You could have  _ told _ me, so I packed the right amount of clothes. Now I’m short a shirt.”

“You can have one of mine.” Dean offered, waving a dismissive hand and reaching for his coffee but Sam’s hand hitting the vinyl made him pause, the cup halfway to his lips. “Whoa! Take it easy. The baby didn’t do anything! And neither did  _ I  _ for that matter.”

Sam snapped her mouth closed on whatever it was she was going to say and turned her face to the window. Dean shook his head, his other hand coming off the wheel to pick up his bagel again, canting up his knee to steady it. 

But Dean seemed to miscalculate just how long his legs were, foot attempting to plant in midair. The car swerved as the force of his foot thunking down the few extra inches jerked the wheel to his left, shifting them into oncoming traffic. The bleat of the semi barreling towards them sent a cold chill down Dean’s spine at Sam’s scream as she lunged to grab the wheel at the same time Castiel lurched forward. His hand closed over Dean’s shoulder, pinning him back against the seat with inhuman strength, his other hand closing around air in the space where Sam’s shoulder should have been. 

Sam managed to jerk them back into their lane, Dean adjusting his leg to get the angle right this time, heel digging into the floorboard as he righted their course. He breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his head for a second before gazing back out at the open road in front of him. Dean glanced at his bagel and coffee still clutched in either hand and let out a spastic chuckle. He looked over at Sam, lifting the items with a celebratory grin.

Dean definitely wasn’t expecting Sam to snatch them both from his hand, fumbling with them before cranking the window down and throwing them out onto the side of the road.

Dean looked over his shoulder, watching the coffee explode on impact and his half-eaten bagel roll into the grass. “ _ Hey!” _

“Fuck you, Dean I’m not dying for your stupid Onion Bagel.”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , Sam!” Dean bellowed, anger beating hot at his temples. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t  _ feel _ good!” She shouted back, throwing the fruit cup in the floorboard and wrapping her arms around her middle, slumping down in her seat.

There was a pregnant pause. “O-oh.” Dean sat up more in his seat, annoyed at the angle. He couldn’t get the position right since he became shorter. “Why didn’t you say something? Do you wanna turn arou-“

“No!” Sam whined, her head flopping back against the seat. “I’m just saying, can you maybe quit being an asshole for five minutes?”

Dean blinked, biting back the retort that if anyone was an asshole here, it was  _ definitely _ Sam, but he let it go. “I’ll do my best. Sorry.” Dean glanced in the rearview, meeting Castiel’s gaze. The angel looked uneasy, and Dean gave him a small smile before looking over at Sam. “So what’s up? You gonna barf or shit yourself or what?”

Dean could see Sam trying not to laugh, but she couldn’t fight it and let out a begrudging chuckle, face breaking in a smile. She heaved a sigh and rolled her head on the seat to glare playfully at Dean. “You almost made it 30 seconds that time.”

Dean grinned, turning his focus back to the road. “A new record for me.”


	6. Working Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will stops for the night. Dean gets some alone time in the shower, Sam's still grouchy and Castiel might have figured out the reason why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody else paying $10/month just to ignore all of Grammarly's suggestions?
> 
> My best friend is a professional writer and just pointed out that Grammarly is basically a more sophisticated Clippy from 1990s MS Word and now I need to lie down.
> 
> I don't know why I'm telling you all this but someone had to share in my pain.

They pulled in to the parking lot of the Western Ridge Motel just after dark, and Dean went to the front office to get the room while Castiel and Sam waited in the car. 

“What’s taking so long?” Sam huffed, a whine lacing her voice, and Castiel hummed, eyes on Dean through the window. Sam sat up. “Is she  _ flirting _ with the  _ desk guy _ ?”

“It would appear so.” Castiel’s voice was flat, and Sam twisted in her seat to look at Castiel.

“She’s probably just trying to get a better rate on the room.” Sam folded her arms over her chest and winced.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Sam?” Castiel reached to touch her shoulder but retreated when Sam flinched away.

“Yeah, I just…” She huffed, reaching up to run her hands through her hair, combing the ends with her fingers absently. “My head hurts.”

Castiel reached again. “I can-”

“I’m  _ fine _ , Cas! Sam snapped, and Castiel showed his palm, leaning back in the seat just as Dean sashayed her way out of the front office.

Dean fell back into the front seat, grinning. She tossed the keys into Sam’s lap. “Got the best room in the place!”

“I thought you learned your lesson about trying to get stuff from guys.” The roar of the engine drowned out Sam’s grumble.

“Oh, that one is harmless.” Dean gave a coy smile at the guy who watched them from the window and gave him a flirty wave. “Nice hot shower for me while you two go find some food.”

Dean pulled them around the complex, parking in front of their room, and Castiel, gentleman that he was, carried their bags inside. It was small but clean with a recently renovated bathroom and two queen-sized beds. The mattresses were hard as bricks, but Dean would take that over a sagging middle any day. Dean handed Sam the keys and started digging in his duffle for his shower kit. Castiel sat on the end of Dean’s bed, watching him.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, hand still dug in his bag.

“Sitting.”

“Aren’t you going with Sam for food?”

“I figured I stay here.”

Dean blinked at him, and Sam sighed from the doorway. “Come on, Cas. She wants some alone time.” Castiel’s head tipped to the side, brow furrowing. “Trust me, dude. I saw some of the things she’s been ordering online. You don’t wanna be here for any of that.”

Dean grabbed a balled up pair of socks and chucked them hard at Sam. “Why are you looking through my search history, you weirdo!”

“We share a Prime account, Dean!” Sam taunted with a giggle then sighed. “Come on, Cas.”

Castiel gave Dean one last searching look before he stood and followed Sam out the door. Dean took his time pulling out his loofah, opening his shower kit, and perusing the contents as he listened to the doors of the Impala slam before the engine roared to life. A thin shiver a pleasure ran through him as Sam revved the engine, his heartbeat steady as a metronome in his ears getting louder as the Impala got farther away.

Dean dropped the kit on the bed and tore through to the bottom of his duffle, hand closing over pink silicone. He clutched it to his chest, grabbing his shower kit, and hurried into the bathroom. Stripping quickly, he cranked on the shower and stepped in, forcing himself to wash and condition his hair - thanks for the tip Sam - before he even let himself think about the ache in his gut. 

He soaped himself up, running the loofah over his body slow, hissing as it scraped against his nipples, carefully moving it between his legs to tease his center. He worked himself up slowly before finally giving in and stepping under the spray, moaning as the water scorched his heated skin and pounded into his muscles. 

He grabbed the toy from the towel where he’d placed both on the sink and ran his fingers over the large flat tip, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the textured stimulator near the battery cylinder. He looked down at himself then to the shower curtain but didn’t want to risk trying this on the bed, not so much worried about getting caught but having his orgasm ruined.

Ultimately he erred on the side of getting off and spread his legs the best he could, toes curling against the Formica as he reached between his legs to insert the toy. He grimaced at the feeling of the wide, flat head slipping deeper. The shape felt wrong, too thin, nothing like the stretch of the first few toys he’d purchased. He felt like Goldilocks, except he was well past three tries without finding something that was just right. The first was  _ way _ too big, the next still too big, the third gave him an amazing stretch, but the plastic texture did nothing for him. He tried a rabbit for all of fifteen seconds before deciding that whoever designed that must have been a man because the stupid ears vibrated so fast they nearly burned his clit off. 

But this, the G-Touch 350 Waterproof Vibe, had the best reviews on Amazon as well as various sex toy sites online and several message board members recommended it. He winced as he tried to reach for the button with his forefinger, slipped, and let out a sharp cry as the toy jabbed him at a strange angle. Jesus and he thought getting the angle wrong hurt his dick; that was fucking agonizing. 

As soon as he clicked the button and the vibration started, his knees went weak, mouth opening on a gasp as his pelvis lit up with pleasure. 

“Oh… fuck…” He moaned, leaning back against the wall of the shower, trying to get his legs wider, adjusting the angle carefully, not pressing too hard. 

The first brush of the textured pad against his clit made him see stars, hand beginning to tremble, thighs shaking. He was aware of the high keening noises coming from his mouth between gasping breaths. He could feel the pressure stirring in his gut, similar to the build he was used to with impending orgasm, and he fought the urge to fist pump.  _ There you are. _ Dean thought, sucking in a great breath, pressing the toy harder and angling it up a little more.

He was startled by a sharp knocking at the door, and he was absolutely going to  _ murder _ his brother or that angel if they forgot their key. Dean felt his orgasm recede a bit and gritted his teeth, pressing the toy harder, but the knocking continued. A high whine echoed, and that was it. It was gone. Dean hung his head, panting and aching before throwing it back so that it banged against the shower wall hard enough to rattle his teeth. 

The knocking was becoming more insistent, and Dean let out a growl, extracting the toy before giving it a quick rinse and stepping out. “Hang on, hang on!” He shouted, wrapping the towel around himself and quickly stuffing the toy back into his bag before hustling over to the door. “You fuckers can’t remember a ke-“

Dean’s voice cut off, finding the large pot-bellied man from the front desk and tried to shuffle more behind the door. “Oh… hey. Sorry, I thought you were…” Dean swallowed hard. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. Nope, uh, just saw that your friends there left without ya and well…” He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked from his heels to his toes and back again, grinning.

Dean blinked at him, forcing himself to stare even after the silence became uncomfortable, but the guy still didn’t continue. “What is it that you needed?”

His smile brightened, and Dean fought the urge to swear. Word choice fucked him every time. “Well, now that you mention it, I do  _ need _ a little something. I was hoping maybe you could provide… you know.”

“I actually don’t.” Dean began to close the door, but the clerk’s hand planted on it leaning his weight against it when Dean tried to apply his.  _ Stupid, tiny girl body. _

“Oh, I think ya do.” He was leering now with a hip on the doorjamb nearly halfway in the room. Dean clutched the towel tighter, but it was barely long enough to stay closed around his frame, and if he even thought of bending over, this guy would get a show on  _ both _ ends. “I can make it worth your while.”

The clerk wormed his sausage fingers into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small vial of white powder. Dean narrowed his eyes at it. “Uh, no thanks. Haven’t done coke since the 80s, but you have fun with that.” Dean once again tried to close the door.

That hand was back. “Okay fine.” He tucked the vial away and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a money clip. “How much for a blowjob?”

“Ex- _ cuse _ me?” Dean’s eyebrows went to his hairline.

The clerk gave her a look before he began counting off bills. “Don’t play coy with me, honey. No way two pretty things like you and the brunette are here with Columbo unless you’re working for him.”

Dean’s ears perked up, the sound of a big-block V8 in the distance, and he’d know Baby’s rumble at any distance. He tried to look out the door without leaning any closer to the creepy clerk, which meant he didn’t get very far. He had to stall. 

Dean sucked in a great breath finally and screwed up his face in righteous indignation, ready to give this guy the dressing down of his life, but the scumbag only grinned, looking mildly amused. Dean planted a hand on the doorframe, definitively barring entry and the light caught the ring on his hand. Dean promptly shoved it in the guy’s face.

“Colombo is my  _ husband _ , you asshole. The other girl is m-  _ his _ sister.” 

The clerk pursed his lips, eyeing the ring on Dean’s finger before his eyes met Dean’s again. He gave a wide grin and leaned in closer. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Dean had no choice but to backpedal, clutching at the towel as he took cautious steps back. The creep was in the room now, the door staying open, and Dean could hear the engine gun, sure Cas and Sam were in the parking lot by now.  _ Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up! _ Dean stood on tiptoes, trying to see out the door while still keeping his distance.

“Oh- _ ho _ !” The clerk exclaimed as the chrome of the bumper glinted in the lamplight of the parking lot, and Dean looked over to find the guy had his disgusting sausage hands all over his vibrator. 

“ _ Give that back, you fucking creep! _ ” Dean shrieked, and the clerk frowned finally, but Dean didn’t wait to see if anger was going to bloom in his eyes. He bolted for the door, the two-second delay between door slams enough of a distraction to dart around the clerk.

Dean vaulted over the threshold and right into Castiel, who huffed in surprise, a plastic sack of take-out in each hand, so he just kind of stood there. Dean was aware his ass was hanging out, and the towel was only covering his front now, so he wiggled around, planting his back against Cas, who was slowly transferring one sack to his other hand with his arms around Dean before he sat them on the hood of the Impala.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam’s voice was shrill, cutting through the quiet of the parking lot, and the clerk was still standing there dumbly, the pink vibe still in one hand. He looked down at it then dropped it back into Dean’s bag. Dean had the sudden urge to vomit.

“This guy… this guy…” Dean pointed a finger, adding a tremor to it for effect, and he felt Castiel’s free hand settle over the jut of one hipbone, his hand warm through the thin towel. Dean twisted to look up into Castiel’s face, green eyes wide “He tried to  _ proposition _ me!” Castiel’s head snapped forward, eyes narrowing.” Dean looked back at the clerk with a severe frown and nudged at Castiel’s ribs with his elbow. “Tell him I’m your wife.”

Castiel did a quick double-take to Dean before his back straightened. “She’s my wife.”

Dean grappled for Castiel’s hand on his hip, lifted it to the light, and - thank god he put the stupid thing on - slotted their fingers, so their rings clanked together.

“I… I…” the clerk shuffled out of the room, rubbing the back of his neck, and Dean pressed back harder into Castiel as he made to approach. Castiel’s hand shook his off and wrapped solidly around Dean’s ribs, Dean’s naked back pressed against the soft wool of Castiel’s dress pants, the cotton of his shirt, his tie a polyester slick right down Dean’s spine. “Well, can you blame me?” The clerk said finally, and Dean actually felt the static shock of Castiel’s anger lighting along his skin.

“I most certainly can. Leave. Now.” Castiel’s voice brooked no argument, a loud crack of thunder punctuating his command as a sharp wind whipped through the lot. 

The clerk opened and closed his mouth like a fish, jutting his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the office, but no sound came out. Castiel’s wrathful gaze followed him all the way down the sidewalk, the wind whipping his trenchcoat against his and Dean’s calves while Sam watched from the driver’s side.

Sam turned to look at Dean finally, her mouth open, face contorted in a look mixed of disbelief and horror. “What the  _ hell _ were you doing?”

Dean scowled. “ _ I  _ was in the shower, minding my own business when he started banging on the door!”

_ “Why did you even answer it!” _ Sam screamed, her fingertips touching her forehead before gesturing sharply, and Castiel hummed in discomfort, shifting to shrug out of his coat.

“ _ Because I thought it was you, and you just forgot your key! _ ” Dean yelled back as Castiel dropped the trench coat around Dean’s shoulders.

“Let’s go inside.”

“ _ And you didn’t immediately slam the door in his face? What the fuck is wrong with you?” _

Dean glared at her as Castiel guided him towards the room,  _ “ _ Oh, great idea Samantha. I sure wish I’d thought of that. _ I tried, you asshole; he blocked it.” _

Castiel handed Sam the take-out bags when she surged forward, Dean wrapping himself tightly in the trench coat and shuffling inside. Sam growled, following Castiel in behind Dean and slamming the door behind her. She dropped the food on the table with a clatter.

“Hey! Don’t take it out on the food!”

_ “ _ You know what?  _ Fuck you, Dean _ ! Fuck you and fuck this  _ stupid spell.” _ Sam’s arms flailed, and Dean’s eyebrows rose, eyes wide as he looked at Castiel, who was standing between both beds, watching the younger Winchester with mild surprise. Sam’s face was red, chest heaving. “You could have been  _ seriously _ hurt, Dean! What if Cas and I hadn’t gotten here when we did?”

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the trench coat tighter around his body. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“You have to fucking  _ stop _ with the flirting and manipulation, Dean.  _ How many close calls do you have to have?” _

Dean rolled his eyes and flapped a hand at Sam, moving to sit on the side of his bed, and neither he nor Castiel could believe their eyes as Sam reached for the ashtray on the table and chucked it as hard as she could at Dean, who just barely deflected it before it bashed him in the face.

“ _ Whoa! _ ”

Castiel held out a warding hand. “Sam…”

_ “Was getting the best room in the place really worth getting raped!” _

She spun on her heel and plopped down onto the side of her bed, hugging her stomach as she hunched over, and Dean and Castiel just looked at each other wide-eyed. Deep wracking sobs shook Sam’s entire frame, and Dean shook his head, standing and clamoring across the bed to the other side where his sister was crying into her hands.

“‘ey...” Dean rubbed a hand up and down her back quickly. “‘ey Sammy, come on now. I’m fine! It wasn’t even a close call, okay?” Dean swallowed hard and pushed the idea of it down and away, not letting his mind even go there. Dean rubbed her back again before brushing aside her long hair and slotting his hand against the back of her neck. He squeezed gently, feeling her tense and shake, rubbing firm circles into the rigid muscles there. Dean swayed her gently. “Come on now. Pull it together. Let’s go.” Dean patted her back solidly, but she just kept sobbing. Dean’s brow furrowed. “Seriously, dude, what’s going on?”

“ _ Something is wrong with me!” _ She exclaimed, and Dean jumped at her outburst, scrambling off his knees to sit next to her. Dean’s hands touched her feverish face, pressing his wrist to her forehead then pressing his fingers to her racing pulse.

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was tremulous, and Castiel was in front of them suddenly, crouching in front of Sam to try and see her face.

Dean observed Castiel, the delicate brush of his fingertips against Sam’s temple before he tenderly tucked her hair behind her ear and out of the way. Castiel shook out his hand before he turned it upside down and pressed his palm to Sam’s forehead, her eyes still closed as she sniffled, Castiel’s thumb resting against the bridge of her nose.

Castiel’s face was situated into an unreadable frown, and Dean’s heart was about to pound out of his chest. “What is it? Is she okay?”

“She’s fertile.”

Dean choked on his own spit, and Sam just looked at him confused, reaching up to wipe her nose. “What?”

“You’re producing copious amounts of progesterone and estrogen.”

“What?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel like he’d just told him his sister had grown a tail.

Castiel sighed. “I believe the colloquial term is PMS.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other then looked at Castiel, faces blank before they both looked down at the floor. 

“I guess that explains why my stomach hurts.”

Dean snorted. “And why you’ve been such a fucking psycho.”

Sam shoved Dean hard, and Castiel actually put his hands between the two of them, heaving a weary sigh.

Sam shifted, eyes snagging on the take out bags. “I’m hungry.”

Dean couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, a hand falling on Sam’s shoulder, and she gave him a sheepish smile. Dean looked to Castiel as it subsided, finding him watching them with a small smile on his face as if Cas was just happy to be there, watching them laugh. Dean nudged his knee with his big toe, and Castiel focused on him, that all-encompassing, no-one-else-in-the-world-exists-but-you stare, and Dean shifted as he felt a pang of longing in his abdomen. He shoved it down.

“You heard the woman.” Dean began to grin, and Castiel mirrored it. “Time to feed the beast.”


	7. Ain't It Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will arrives in Gasquet and learns more about their case. Sam experiences all that PMS has to offer and Dean is reluctantly sent for supplies.

They reached Gasquet by sundown the next day, most of the sleepy town already packed up for the evening. As they drove through the main thoroughfare, they couldn’t help but notice the missing posters that hung on every lamppost and in every storefront. A young girl, maybe 10 or 12, smiled sheepishly in front of the cloudy blue backdrop every school photographer in America seemed to own. The same poster was taped to the counter in the motel office when Dean sidled up, studying it before tapping the bell to summon the clerk.

A wizened woman with a smoker’s cough waddled her way from the back office and gave Dean an appraising look. “Help you?”

“Need a room for the next few days. Two beds.” Dean slipped his hand into his front pocket, but it closed on nothing. He frowned, trying his other and then both back pockets. “Ugh, not again,” he grumbled to himself.

“Problem?”

“Yeah, these stupid girl pants don’t have real fucking pockets.” Dean tugged, pulling them inside out to underscore his point. There was barely enough fabric to make it past his belt. “How are you supposed to fit anything in there, much less  _ keep _ it there? Hang on; it’s probably in the car.” Dean rolled his eyes and turned only to run smack into Castiel.

“You dropped this again.” Castiel held up his money clip, and Dean snatched it.

“Thanks, Cas.” His tone was gruff, but Castiel smiled anyway, knowing that was just Dean’s mood. “Alright, sorry about that.” He huffed a sigh pulling out a few bills and sliding them across the counter. That’s when he noticed the deep scars running jaggedly from behind the woman’s ear, down across the loose skin of her neck, and disappearing into the collar of her blouse.

“One room. Three nights.” The woman nodded, pulling out a beat-up cashbox and slotted the money in. She eyed Dean hard as she reached for a key on the pegboard. “I need-ta go over the house rules?”

“Not my first rodeo,” Dean inclined his head with a charming smile, and the woman narrowed her eyes at him. Dean’s eyes dropped to her scar again. He gestured. “What happened here?”

“Cut myself shaving.” The woman hacked hard into her handkerchief before she slid the key across the counter so that it laid right over the missing girl’s face.

“And to her?” Dean indicated the flyer as he picked up his key, and the woman sneered.

“Some girl ran off with her boyfriend prob’ly.” She shrugged, and Dean eyed her.

“She’s a little young…”

The woman snorted. “They’s only too young till they ain’t.”

Dean pursed his lips. “Heard there’ve been some bear attacks around recently. Missing hikers...” Dean went to shove his money clip back in his pocket and sighed when it peeked out, unable to go any further. “That something we need to keep an eye out for? We’re butted right up against the woods there.” Dean gestured.

The woman reached under the counter and pulled out a shotgun that was nearly the same size as her. “Most animals steer clear.”

Dean chuckled. “Alright then.” Dean took the key. “‘ey, there any place to eat around here this time-a night?”

“Greasy spoon up the road a-ways. Big neon sign. Can’t miss it.”

Dean grinned up at Castiel. “Sam’ll be thrilled.”

Sam was anything but thrilled. “We’ve been in the car for hours, Dean. Can’t we just order a pizza or something?”

Dean closed his eyes as he slid into the parking spot near their room and resisted the urge to smack his forehead into the steering wheel. 

“Normally, I would just to get you to shut up. But it’s the only place open. And I doubt they deliver.”

“We could call it in and then bring it back,” Castiel suggested, and Dean glared at him through the rearview mirror but sighed when Sam looked at him with big puppy eyes. They were even more potent on a feminine face, his dude brain willing to bend over backward for a pretty girl in need. Even if it was his sister, turned out. 

“Fine, but  _ you _ have to call.” 

Castiel carried in the bags while Dean adjusted some things in the trunk, checking the nozzle on the flame thrower, refilling his zippo with lighter fluid. Castiel appeared around the side of the car.

“Our order will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Guess we should get going then.” 

Dean reached to slam the trunk, feeling the cool night air breeze across his stomach as his shirt lifted to bare his midriff. He tugged at the hem angrily, glancing at Castiel to bitch about women’s shirt sizes just in time to catch the slow swipe of Castiel’s tongue over his bottom lip, eyes riveted to that strip of skin. Dean blushed, turning abruptly to get into the car.

The woman at the desk was right. You  _ couldn’t _ miss the Lunch Box Diner, with its offensively large sign in bright pink and blue neon, the same lighting piped along the roofline and flanking the doors. It was like a little piece of Vegas in the middle of the forest. The missing poster was on the door when they entered and taped to the register on the counter. 

“Pick up order?” 

Dean looked up and found a young man leaning out the order window, eyes moving over his body, and immediately shifted closer to Castiel, their hips bumping. 

“Yes.” Castiel’s voice was deep and short; the cook’s attention snapped to him. 

“Just a sec.” The cook disappeared and reappeared again out a swinging door holding two plastic sacks with styrofoam containers in them. “Here ya go. Susie will be over in a sec to check you out. You new in town?”

“Passing through,” Dean replied as Castiel growled, “FBI.” He flipped out his badge.

The cook’s eyes widened. “Whoa. You here about the missing girls?” He looked at Dean skeptically. “You FBI too?”

“She’s my supervisor.” Castiel tucked his badge back into his chest pocket, and Dean didn’t bother to fight the urge to roll his eyes when the cook looked him over appreciatively. 

“Love a lady with ambition.”

“What do you know about the disappearances?” Dean’s voice was short, and the cook’s smile fell.

“Nothin’ really. Josie here was the latest. Came in with her grandfather every Friday after school for a milkshake.” The cook sighed, mouth turning down. “Sweet kid. Mom bailed when she was little, but her dad’s a great guy. Takin’ it real hard.” 

“The others were older, right?” Dean questioned, and the cook made a face. 

“Older than her, yeah. But like still in their 20s? Hikers mostly.”

“All women?” Castiel asked, and the cook nodded.

"Yeah, but that was two years ago, man. What are the odds the same creep is still-"

“Hector!” A sharp voice from down the counter made them all cringe, but Hector nearly cowered. “What have I told you about talking about  _ that _ with customers?” 

A large-bodied waitress, who they assumed to be Susie, ambled her way over on swollen ankles, coffee pot slotting onto the hotplate as she walked by it. Hector mumbled something about a grease fire and hurried back to the kitchen. The waitress glared after him. 

“Sorry about that. Pick-up order?” She looked at the ticket on the front of the bag and began punching numbers into the ancient register before she looked up at Castiel expectantly. “I still owe you a hot tea, but it’s twenty-two even, darlin’.”

Dean made to pull out his money clip and peeled a twenty and a ten off before handing it over. “Keep the change.”

Susie eyed it for a moment before giving Castiel a cool look as she took the money. “Thank you.” Castiel’s head tipped to the side.

“Hey…” The waitress twisted her head to look at Dean as she grabbed a styrofoam cup and turned the nozzle on the coffee machine to spit steaming water into it. “Don’t be too hard on the guy back there. We asked him. We’re FBI.” Dean smacked Castiel in the ribs, and he fumbled around in his coat pocket again, flashing the badge before tucking it away.

Susie pursed her lips as she stuck a lid on the cup before snatching a teabag from a box and shuffled back over. “Bout time you all got here. Women going missing wasn’t a big deal until it was a little blond girl?” She set the cup on the counter and tucked the teabag into one of their sacks before her hands fisted on her hips.

“Do the authorities have any leads?” Castiel asked, and Susie glared at him.

“No, likely some drifter staying at the no-tell-motel down the road snatched her up.” She sniffed disapprovingly. “Nothing but trouble since that old woman took over.”

“How so?” Dean asked, and the waitress shrugged.

“Used to be a nice  _ family _ establishment. Now she rents to anyone with the cash up front.”

“That’s generally how motels work, isn’t it?” Castiel asked, eyes narrowing in confusion, and Dean placed a hand on his arm as the waitress huffed.

“Not in  _ this _ town, agent.”

#

“This is  _ your fault _ .”

Dean rolled his eyes from the end of his bed, pawing through his duffle. Sam was curled into a ball in the middle of her bed, whimpering pitifully. He and Castiel had gone out for breakfast, and when they returned, they found Sam wrapped up in the blankets from both beds, whimpering softly. Nearly gave Dean a heart attack, and when he found out she was just having cramps, he’d resisted the urge to throttle her. Cas brought in the extra blankets from the trunk before taking her cup from the night before to the office in search of more tea. Right now, it was just Dean and the moaning lump of covers that used to be his br- sister.

“Oh, come on, Sam.”

“It  _ fucking hurts, Dean! _ ” Sam snapped shrilly. “God, I wanna die, and nothing has even started yet. OW FUCK” Sam curled in harder at what must have been a particularly nasty cramp. “You have to go out and get stuff.”

Dean let his head hang back. “We  _ just _ got ba-” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “What stuff?” Sam’s face, angry and red, peeked out from a hole in her cocoon.

“ _ Period. Stuff. Dean. _ ” 

Dean’s eyes widened, and he looked resolutely back into his bag. “ _ No!  _ Nope. Not gonna happen.”

“You’re gonna need them soon too, asshole.”

Dean’s hand closed on the pink vibe and immediately snatched it back, rubbing his fingers together. No way he could use that again. Not after that desk clerk creeper had his sausage fingers all over it. Wait… “What? No, I’m not.”

Sam kicked the blankets off, sweating now. “Oh, yes you are. This is gonna be you in a few days, maybe even hours. My hormones are getting all over yours, Dean. They’re encouraging your uterus to start shedding.”

“Fucking  _ gross _ , dude.” Dean flailed his hands, and Sam was shrugging out of her flannel, revealing her thin black tank top underneath.

“Yeah, I  _ feel _ fucking gross. Ugh.” She unbuttoned her jeans and started pushing them down her legs, feebly kicking her feet to get them off. They remained stuck at her ankles. She gave up and collapsed back down onto the mattress. “Will you please go get me some stuff?”

Just then, the door to the motel room opened, and Castiel appeared, the steaming paper cup in one hand and something that looked like a rubber organ tucked under his arm. Cas dropped his room key on the table before striding over to the bed.

“Here you are, Sam. It’s chamomile.”

Sam grumbled as she sat up. She took the cup in both hands and promptly shoved her face in it, crossing her legs to sit Indian-style. 

“The young lady at the front desk also offered this.” 

Castiel held up what turned out to be a hot water bottle and gently slipped it between Sam’s elbows that were propped on her knees, pressing it gently to her abdomen. The low moan that Sam gave off nearly made Dean jealous. Castiel was quick to take the cup as Sam fell backward, clutching the bottle to her lower belly and looking up at Castiel like he hung the moon.

“Thank you, Cas.”

“You’re most welcome.” Castiel set the tea on the bedside table. He patted Sam’s hair gently. “Try and rest. We’ll go find a drug store.”

“We?” Dean snorted, and Castiel lanced him with a scathing look. “I’m going to interview the father of the missing girl.”

“Alright, I can go by myself. I’ll drop you off at the father’s house and pick you up when you’re done. Keys.” Castiel held out a hand and Dean looked at him, horrified.

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Dean grabbed the keys from the bedside table and stomped towards the door. “I’m driving.”

Castiel didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “As you wish.”

#

Sam was asleep when they returned, and Dean, against Castiel’s admonishment, woke her up to share with her their spoils. “Alright, we got Midol, we got some Gatorade in case you get dehydrated. Beef jerky cause you’re losing iron.” Dean dumped those items on the bed before he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Cas is across the street at the VFW, putting our name on the list for later so we can get dinner from the fish-fry they got going on. Apparently, it’s the best Trout in the state, and Omega 3s are gonna help with your pisspoor attitude.” Dean let one bag dangle from his fingers. “And ice cream. Naturally.”

“What flavor?” Sam asked miserably. Dean felt a stab of tenderness, and chalking it up to too much grease in his breakfast sandwich, swept the hair back from her forehead. 

“That nasty ass butter pecan shit you love so much.”

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam sat up and reached for it, not even bothering to remove it from the bag, just pushing the plastic down and peeling off the lid. Dean produced a plastic spoon from his jacket pocket.

“Anything for you, sis.”

Sam shoveled an overloaded spoon full of ice cream into her mouth. “Where are the… you know…”

Dean sighed, digging into the last bag and held up an offensively purple plastic package. “Cas convinced some lady it was his daughter’s first period, and he had no clue what he was doing.” Dean snorted. “You shoulda seen the look she gave him when he told her I was born without a uterus and was no help. Thought she was going to throttle him within an inch of his life. I tried to muster up some tears, but it was just too funny. Anyway, she said these were good.”

“You’re such an asshole, Dean.,” Sam snorted between bites of butter pecan. “Where  _ is _ Cas?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Getting you more fucking  _ tea _ .” He examined the package in his hands and read the front. “Always.” He snorted. “Like they’re gonna call them Some-Of-The-Time.” 

Sam laughed and then clutched his abdomen. “Don’t…”

Dean examined the package closer. “Look at this. Always Dry Weave. With Wings. 24-hour protection… and… “Dean made a face, flipping the package around again. “Optional sunroof. Jesus…” 

He began ripping into the package, and Sam set aside the ice cream on the bedside table before leaning in for a better look.

“Holy. Shit!” Dean had unwrapped one of the pads, and it unfolded like an accordion. “This thing is  _ huge! _ It looks like a Doctor Scholl’s insert!”

“Dean, stop!” Sam whined, giggling as she held her stomach. 

“You think I could use this as a coffee filter if we ever run out?” Dean was peeling off the backing and stuck the pad to his shirt where it fit cleanly over his boobs. “The trash guy would probably think I had a  _ horrible _ disease.” Dean planted his hands on his hips.

“Deeeean!” Sam was laughing, clutching at her stomach, and Dean was grinning, on a roll.

“Better be careful wearing these things, Sammy. Don’t fall in a puddle. You’ll just-“ Dean made a sucking noise, and Sam burst out in a belly laugh before her face suddenly went blank. She looked down at herself.

“Oh no,” she whispered, and Dean froze, looking down at her as her gray shorts began to bloom red at the crotch. “It just… I didn’t have any warning! It just…  _ gushed! _ ” 

“Gross, dude.” Dean glanced around, unsure as to what to do, the strong urge to chuck the pads at Sam and flee washing over him. “Uh… okay, I guess. Let’s… get up, and I’ll… see about getting a change of sheets? You… get in the shower, and…” Dean held out the package. “Figure out how the hell to use these.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's bit about Sam's pads is borrowed from Jeremy Hotz. [This](https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x5sbwif) is STILL one of the most hilarious comedy specials I've ever seen.


	8. Big Little Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean team up to interview the father of the missing girl, but Dean goes at the girl's best friend solo and discovers they may have been wrong about this case all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, two updates in one day. I was originally going to make both of these into a single chapter but then decided they didn't really go together. *face palm*
> 
> Hope everyone survived the finale and either loved it or made peace with it. #SPNFamilyForever

“If you want to stay with Sam, I can interview the father.”

Dean shot Castiel a glare as he tugged at the waistband of his tailored pants, making sure the satiny blouse was still tucked in all the way around. He pulled on the lapels of the crushed velvet blazer, not quite big enough to button with his breasts, but he still felt he looked professional enough.

“You look nice, Dean.”

Dean blinked across the hood of the Impala at Castiel, who was observing him with a serene smile on his face. Dean fought a blush. “Uh… thanks, Cas.”

"Dean?"

Dean stopped as he was about to drop into the driver's seat and Castiel hesitated. “What is it?”

“I know Sam said it was a Wendigo, but I confirmed that it's been two years since a hiker has gone missing or turned up mauled to death. There’s probably one here but it struck two years ago. It’s probably hibernating now.”

“Then it should be easier to kill.” Dean shrugged as if asking him _so what?_ Castiel looked down, chastised and Dean sighed. "Look, Sammy ain't usually wrong but I promise I'll keep an open mind okay?"

They drove out of town a ways, taking a winding road before dumping off onto a bumpy gravel path that had Dean cursing under his breath and apologizing to Baby over and over. After about a quarter-mile, the trees opened up a small clearing just large enough for a little house with a postage stamp front yard. Dean could tell it’d been pretty once, but the flowerbeds were overgrown now with weeds, bushes threatening to engulf the large porch.

Dean parked, eyeing the front door for a moment before he killed the engine. Sure enough, a man with a shotgun staggered to the top of the steps, glaring out at the car. Dean and Castiel shared a look before they both got out.

“Mr. Melrich? I’m Agent Nicks; this is Agent Buckingham of the FBI. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

The man narrowed his eyes but tipped the barrel of the shotgun down towards the ground. He nodded after a moment and turned to go back inside. Dean and Castiel shared a look before they followed with trepidation.

The front room of the little house was cluttered with dusty knickknacks and piles of newspapers with take-out boxes and dishes stacked around the sagging couch. Melrich still hadn’t said a word, but he’d moved around the overflowing coffee table, stepping carefully around fast-food sacks and dirty bowls to lower himself to the cushions. He peered up at them with bloodshot eyes, hands folding over his knees as if waiting for some kind of news.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Melrich,” Castiel began while Dean leveled his scrutinizing gaze on the man’s face. “We just have a few questions about your daughter’s disappearance.” Melrich blinked but still didn’t respond. Castiel cut his eyes to Dean in a quick flick before he went on. “What can you tell us about the last time you saw your daughter?”

Melrich sucked in a deep breath and leaned back, sinking more into the couch, arms pulling taut against his knees to keep from being swallowed whole. “She was up and making breakfast when I got home from my shift-

“You work the night shift at the First Transit dispatch office.”

Melrich blinked, looking a bit dazed before he pursed his lips as if in agreement that was pertinent information. “Yeah, yeah, I do. Us’ally, Jo is still in bed when I get in, but she had a big math test she was real nervous about. Struggles with fractions.” Melrich rubbed his face. “She made me breakfast, and I walked her through it again, then…” He waved a hand as his voice trailed. “Took ‘er to school.”

“Are you the one who usually picks her up from school?”

Dean watched the man’s shoulders go tense at the question though there was no accusation in Castiel’s voice. “Yuh. Yuh, I do.” He cleared his throat. “Except it was a Wednesday, and she has violin practice after school on Mondays and Wednesdays. So I pay a kid to pick ‘er up and bring ‘er to the house.” He waved a hand again, indicating the room around him as his eyes roved over the cluttered space, looking like a man lost at sea. “Josie known ’im since she were little, and he needed the cash. Knocked up his girlfriend.”

Castiel and Dean shared a look, eyebrows raised. “Is that,” Castiel looked down at his notes, “Jacob Colquitt? Son of her violin teacher?”

Melrich nodded, eyes focused on a spot on the carpet.

Dean finally spoke. “You got any reason to believe he would want to hurt her?”

Melrich shook his head, still focused on nothing.

“Mr. Melrich-”

“Josie’s a good girl. I know what they’s sayin’ about her.” Melrich lifted his gaze. “Think cause she ain’t got no mama an’ she’s startin’ to…” he trailed, flapping a hand while his face went tense and red, “not be a little girl no more, ’at she was flirtin’ with older boys an’ turnin’” He sucked in a great breath pulling up one leg to rest his ankle on his knee and let his cheeks puff out in a gust. “Turnin’ in to some kinda…” He waved a hand and then let out chuff that was devoid of humor, bringing one hand up to rub his forehead. “I ain’t supposed to call ’em sluts or whores. Josie’s real particular about language ’round women.” Melrich dropped his hand and sighed. “Loose, I guess.” 

Melrich shrugged and finally looked up, eyes moving from Castiel to Dean then back again. 

“She wuddn’t. I know you think I’m just sayin’ that cause I’m her daddy, but she _really_ wuddn’t. It scared her.” He chuckled, a soft smile pulling at his lips as his eyes dropped again, focusing on a memory. “She said, ‘Daddy, do you know that these girls are putting it in their _mouths_.” He laughed again, harder this time, and shook his head. “‘Can you even _believe_ that? I think I’ll be a lesbian if boys are expecting me to do that.’” Melrich huffed another soft laugh, eyes going from warm with memory to haunted by reality. “She didn’t like what I had ta say ’bout _them_ activities.”

“Were you always so candid with your daughter about sexual relations?”

Dean shot Castiel a look, but Melrich just shrugged. “Been just me n’ her since the day she was born. The ink wuddin’t dry on her birth certificate a’fore that whore-“He cut himself off and winced, humming. “Before her mother took off. I changed every diaper, cleaned up every mess, got drooled on, and barfed on. I potty trained her, which lemme tell you, ain’t easy with different parts.” Melrich huffed with a tilt of his head. “She learned about periods and shaving from ‘er little friends, but I gave ‘er The Talk ’bout her body changin’. Took a lotta hell at the dispatch for readin’ sex books, but I figer’d it out.” He suddenly looked at Dean. “You girls got it rough. 

Dean felt his lips quirk in a small smile. Castiel cleared his throat.

“When did you find out that her violin lesson had been canceled?”

Melrich looked up then. “What?”

“The day your daughter disappeared. She didn’t have her violin lesson because Mrs. Colquitt,” Castiel paused to look down at his notes and quoted,” ‘had the screaming shits.’”

Dean honked a laugh that he tried to pass off as a cough before he hit Castiel hard in the sternum with the back of his hand. Castiel looked at him wide-eyed. _What?_

“You sayin’ she… she mighta actually run away?” Melrich looked shell-shocked, and Dean shifted on his feet, shoes pinching at his toes. Why didn’t the goddamn locals tell the guy?”

“Mr. Melrich,” Dean’s voice was soft, and he shivered at his own tone. It had sounded so much like his mother. Dean cleared his throat. “Where would she have gone?”

“Tha’s the thing, Agent.” Melrich looked up at Dean with dead and haunted eyes. “For the life’a me I can’t think of a single place. She never talked about leavin’. Even when I started askin’ ‘er about colleges - real preliminary mind you, just tryin’a see if that was what she was thinkin’ or if she wanted to be a mechanic or sommat.” He waved a hand. “Said she wanted to be an astronaut.” Melrich gave a charmed huff, looking between both of them before shaking his head. “But didn’ wanna leave Gasquet. I tol’ ‘er, I said, ‘Honey, Gasquet _always_ gon’ be here.’” The light went from his eyes again. “She said, ‘The moon ain’t goin’ nowhere neither.” 

He reached up to rub his face hard, giving a great sniff before he sat up, pulling himself to the edge of the couch to plant both feet on the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees, holding one hand in the other as he hunched over and pressed his fists to his mouth. His eyes flicked up to Dean and Castiel, eyeing them both for a beat.

“You think she ran away?”

“While that is the most common assumption in a case like this, there’s no evidence to support that theory.”

Melrich’s eyes narrowed, and Dean cleared his throat. “Means no. We actually wondered if she went for a hike, got lost in the woods.”

“There have been several bear attacks recently.” 

Dean sighed, closing his eyes, and forced himself to smile politely at the father instead of glare at Castiel. Melrich blinked, an astonished look coming over his face as he looked into the middle distance, processing.

“That was a couple years ago now,” Melrich said, rubbing at his whiskered chin in thought before he shook himself out of it. “But no… no, not really anymore. When she was a kid, I’d run her through the woods, you know to tire ‘er out.” A ghost of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Used to go on a camping trip every summer. Just me n’ her up the mountain for a week, fishin’ and followin’ trails.” His smile fell when he looked down at his hands in his lap. “But she ‘idn’t wanna go this year.” He gave a sad chuckle. “Too grown to spend that time with ‘er old man, I guess.”

There was a beat of silence before Dean spoke up. “Do you mind if we take a look at her room?”

“Police already done that,” Melrich said, but he was already getting to his feet. 

Dean gave him a warm smile that evoked no reaction, so Dean let it grow more sincere. “Could be something they missed.”

Melrich lowered his head in a nod but then didn’t bother to lift it again as he turned to guide them towards the back hallway. “Could be.”

There were three doors, two on the left and one on the right. The first on the left was a bathroom, the door open, but the room was dark. The other two doors were closed, the one at the end of the hall plain, but the one across from the bathroom was decorated with paper stars and foam letters spelling out JOSIE in a haphazard arch. Melrich stood aside, hands shoved in his pockets before he realized they were waiting for him to go in first. He simply extracted a hand and gestured for them to help themselves, moving to squeeze around them to go back into the living room.

Inside was a room in transition; the walls were a butter yellow, a safe color when you weren’t sure of the sex of your baby, with a Duckie border that went around the room at waist height. On the walls were posters of a blond girl with a giant bow and decals of unicorns, cupcakes, and hair bows. Dean glanced at the bed, snagging the corner of a pink blanket with a giant unicorn head proclaiming “Unicorn Vibes” that had been placed to meticulously cover the bedspread. Underneath, Ana and Elsa’s faces smiled up at him.

Castiel had wandered over to the vanity, looking at the photos and clippings stuck in the mirror, most of them of the boy from Stranger Things. He nudged a tube of lip gloss so that it rolled across the wooden top. Dean shifted more into the room, moving towards the closet where he found a pile of stuffed animals shoved towards the back, more photos of the Stranger Things kid and some other boys who were skinny and baby-faced and no one Dean recognized. A pile of dirty laundry was on the floor under shirts that ranged from school pride to unicorns to Nsync and Britney Spears. Dean shook his head, moving to turn back when something caught his eye. He bent to snag at the piece of bloody cloth and ended up yelping and dropping it once he realized it was a pair of blue cotton panties.

“What is it?” Castiel stepped over, and Dean wiped his hands on his slacks forcing himself to remember he was _not_ a pervert for touching a pre-teens dirty underwear, and he was a woman now, so Cas really shouldn’t be touching them.

“Gimme those.” Dean snatched them from Castiel, who frowned at him, confused. “Don’t touch little girl’s panties, dude. You’ll get arrested.”

“They’re bloody.”

“She had trouble with her…” Both Dean and Castiel whirled around, finding Melrich hovering in the doorway. His face was red as he gestured vaguely. “Her time of the month. Bled over in her sleep. I told her she should try and hold it, which I thought was funny, but she burst into tears, so…” Melrich rubbed the back of his neck, spotting that the blanket had been tugged back, and he moved to right it, smoothing it out. “You think she’s still alive?”

Castiel and Dean looked at each other. “Would Josie have _any_ reason to go into the woods the day she disappeared?”

Melrich frowned. “No. She told me the high school kids smoked weed just off the trails near the state park, but she couldn’t have gotten out there without a ride.”

“Could Jacob have taken her out there?”

Melrich gave a wry smile. “Not if he wanted to live to see his baby born.”

Dean chuckled. “What about her friends?”

“Only had one.” Melrich shrugged. “Well she was friendly with everyone but only spent time outside’a school with one. “Madison Naruda. Been stuck next to each other since they started up pre-K thanks to the alphabet. They get along alright.”

“Would _she_ have any reason to go into the woods without telling anyone?” Castiel’s tone was sharper than Dean would have liked, but Melrich didn’t seem to realize or care. 

“She was a Girl Scout.” Melrich shrugged.

Dean and Castiel shared a look.

#

The Narudas lived just off the main road, actually within walking distance of their hotel. It was a tidy bungalow with flower beds in the yard and a swing on the porch, exuding all the warmth and welcome that the Melrich residence had not. Castiel knocked on the door before he stepped back to stand shoulder to shoulder again with Dean, waiting.

A woman answered, face pulling into a slow smile as she tried to place each of their faces in her mind’s eye. Dean smiled back.

“Agent Nicks.” He kicked his head at Castiel. “Agent Buckingham of the FBI. Is your daughter home?”

The woman’s face fell immediately. “What’s this about?” Her voice was like a slap, and Dean showed her his palms.

“She’s not in trouble. We just want to ask her some questions about her friend, Josie Melrich.”

Mrs. Naruda seemed uneasy at that. “She gave an interview with the police already. Can’t you just get the transcripts?”

“We’d really like to question her ourselves.” 

Dean did actually roll his eyes and glare at Cas this time before heaving a sigh and giving Mrs. Naruda a winning smile.

“No disrespect to your local force, ma’am, but she was pulled out of school and driven to the police station in the back of a cruiser. _I_ was nervous dealing with those guys, and I got a badge and a gun.” Dean chuckled, and Mrs. Naruda’s mouth softened. 

“I want to help Josie. I really do, but Maddie has had nightmares ever since the day Josie went missing.”

“Were they together that day?”

“Just at school. Sometimes Jason - er Mr. Melrich - brings her home with Josie, so she doesn’t have to be alone until I get off work, but Jo had violin practice.”

“She didn’t, though. Mrs. Colquit had the flu. She canceled Josie’s lesson.” Castiel’s words made the woman grimace.

“Look, I know my daughter. She doesn’t lie.” Even she didn’t sound convinced of the statement. Dean cleared his throat.

“We’re not saying she lied, Mrs. Naruda. We’re wondering if maybe she was too scared to tell the truth at the time. You said she’s been having nightmares?”

Mrs. Naruda nodded, chewing on her bottom lip, and Dean held up his arms in an open gesture. “Hey, me too. Did she say what they were about?” Mrs. Naruda looked down and shook her head. Dean stepped closer. “Let me talk to her. Those cops would scare a lumberjack. She may feel more comfortable talking to a… a woman.” Dean gave her a tense smile, feeling wrong inside suddenly. This body was wrong. Dean shook it off. “My partner can stay out here.” Castiel huffed. “Or in the living room, kitchen. Whatever.”

The mother eyed Dean hard, barely glancing at Castiel before she eventually stepped back to let them inside. They both wiped their feet on the rug, looking around the sunny entryway, light spilling in from the large window in the front room to their right. Dean barely heard the soft “follow me” as she began to move deeper into the house, and he held up a hand to Castiel, bidding him wait in the foyer. Castiel’s face was sour, but he did as he was asked.

Another back hallway, another set of closed doors but the sound of errant chords from an electric guitar emitted from behind one of them. Mrs. Naruda gave a soft knock on one that looked like it once had a bunch of stickers all over it that had now been peeled off. 

“Not now, Mom!”

The girl’s tone was short and biting, and Dean felt the woman’s shoulders curl a bit before she straightened her back and knocked a little harder. “Maddie, someone here needs to speak to you.”

“If it’s Emily, tell her I’ve got cramps.”

Dean hand to bring his hand up to smother a chuckle and found Mrs. Naruda also trying to hide a smile. “No, sweetie. It’s the police.” The cords stopped. “A policewoman,” she amended quickly. 

The door opened then, a pale white face appearing in the crack before it opened slowly to reveal a black-haired girl in an overly large Black Sabbath t-shirt that hung to her thighs and nothing else. Dean looked away.

“She wants to ask you some things about Josie… Are you okay with that?” The mother’s eyes were scanning the girl’s face with excruciating focus and followed quickly with, “You don’t have to.”

“It would help a lot,” Dean mumbled, flicking his eyes to the girl’s face and keeping them there. “I know you talked with-”

“Local PD are fucking idiots.”

“ _Madison!_ ”

“You’re the one that said it!” Madison gestured to her mother, her face twisted in that snotty expression all teenage girls mastered by the time they thirteen. Mrs. Naruda’s cheeks went pink as she gave Dean a sheepish smile.

“Then you know why I’d like to speak with you myself.” Dean smiled at her. 

Madison narrowed her eyes but eventually stepped back and allowed the door to open all the way. Where Josie’s room was all pink hair bows and unicorns slapped hastily over childhood items, Madison’s was black on black, a few posters of metal bands both classics and from Dean’s own youth but multiples of Billie Eilish. She had a record player in the corner with the start of a collection. Madison moved to curl herself into one of those furry camp chair looking things that all teen girls had, and Dean was relieved to see that she was in fact wearing workout shorts; her shirt just happened to be the same length. He glanced at the clippings on her corkboard. 

“You and Josie bond over the kid from Stranger Things?”

“No we bonded over our dead moms.”

Dean’s head whipped around, and Madison gave him a self-satisfied smirk. Dean’s eyes moved to the doorway where Mrs. Naruda stood, face sour and arms crossed.

“Madison, Josie’s mother isn’t dead, and while I…” Mrs. Naruda swallowed hard, looking at the ground, “I didn’t birth you myself, I’ve been here since you were two years-“

“I’ve got it from here, Leslie, thank you.” 

Madison gave the woman a bland smile, and Dean fought the urge to backhand the little shit as Mrs. Naruda’s eyes filled with tears. She managed to nod and exit the doorway before she began to cry, but from Dean’s vantage point, he caught the shake of her shoulders before she disappeared from view. Dean turned his gaze back to Madison, who glared back.

“Don’t look at me like that. They lied to me! My whole life, they said she was my mom, and she’s _not_. My real mom is dead. My dad and… and… _Leslie_ just let me think she was my real mom.” Madison crossed her arms over her non-existent chest and huffed.

“That why you’re a goth kid now?” Dean gestured to the walls around them, and Madison just sighed, reaching for her guitar again. “When was the last time you saw Josie?”

“School the day she disappeared.” Madison lined her fingers up on the frets and strummed. “Then she went to violin practice.”

“Yeah, we know that was canceled because her teacher had the flu, but her father didn’t know that.” Dean’s eyes narrowed on her as she continued to strum carefully. “But _you_ knew that. Where did you two go?”

Madison sucked in a breath, squared her shoulders, and redoubled her focus on the guitar. “Nowhere. We weren’t together. I don’t know where she went. She told me she had violin practice.”

Dean sighed, taking deliberate steps towards her. “Kid, you may be able to fool Leslie in there because she ain’t your real mom, but that shit ain’t gonna fly with me.” 

Madison looked up at him, her dark eyes round and wide. “You can’t say that to me.”

Dean looked around the room, pursed his lips, and shrugged his shoulders. “Looks like I just di. You want me to call your not-mom in here for help?” Dean gestured mockingly at the door, and Madison’s mouth snapped shut, her face screwing up in anger. “Look, I just wanna find your friend. There’s a chance she’s still alive-”

“She’s dead.”

The certainty with which it was said was like a punch in the chest. Madison’s head dipped again, the dark curtain of her hair hiding her face as she concentrated on her finger placement. Her hands were trembling though, making the strings crunch through the amplifier. Dean took a deep breath and moved in front of her before he crouched down to her eye level. He tilted his head, reaching to tuck his own hair behind his ear as he tried to catch her eyes.

“How do you know that?” Dean’s voice was soft, and Maddie turned her head further away from him. “Madison, what did you see?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.” She sounded small and scared, all her previous bravado gone, and Dean pressed his lips together.

“Try me.”

Madison finally turned her head to look at him, giving a small sniffle, and Dean reached up to knuckle at the wet tracks on her face. She squirmed, and Dean showed her his palm in apology. Madison took a deep breath before settling her eyes on Dean, weary and reluctant before it shifted into something else.

“You’re really pretty.”

Dean blinked slow, heckles rising because all his life he’d been called pretty, and honestly, nothing pissed him off more, except when they zeroed in on his mouth. 

“Yeah, pretty lethal,” he joked without thinking, and the sound of his own voice shook loose the reality once again that despite how he felt, he was currently female. Madison looked down chastised, and Dean kicked himself mentally. “Sorry, uh… hard being a… tough being a woman in this line of work.”

“Why’d you become a cop?” Dean felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I mean… with the way you look you… you coulda been, like a model or something. Or a trophy wife at least.”

Dean chuckled. “Well I’m flattered, but I…” Dean wasn’t sure how he was going to answer that, but his mouth just kept moving. “I kind of always hated my looks. Sure, there are perks, I guess, but you also gotta deal with a lot of creeps. And assholes who think you’re weak.”

“So you became a cop to kick the crap out of creeps?” Madison’s lips twitched in a smile, and Dean gave her a sardonic smirk.

“No, I wanted… still want to… help people. Saving people. Hunting things… criminals. It’s who I am.” Dean gestured at his face. “None of this is.”

Madison rolled her eyes. “Of course you’d say that. You’re really pretty.” Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re… you wouldn’t need to try and fix anything.”

She tucked her chin down, fingers picking at the fur on the edge of her chair, and Dean’s legs were beginning to cramp, but he took a calming breath.

“How did you try to fix it?”

Madison’s eyes snapped to his before they skittered away again. She wiggled in her chair, uncomfortably. “Josie and I… we… I mean, you saw the pictures of her all over town and-“She cut herself off, gesturing at her face. “We’re no Mille Bobbie Brown.” Dean had no idea who that was, so he kept quiet. Madison puffed a breath and set down her guitar. “Look don’t tell Mo- er Leslie about this, okay? She’ll freak.”

She twisted in her seat and reached behind her amplifier, working something closer to her, and Dean’s stomach dropped when he saw the pentagram etched into the lid. Madison opened it. Inside, Dean saw something square wrapped in sky blue fabric that he assumed to be a tarot deck, several crystals - he recognized Rose Quartz, Amethyst, and Aventurine - white feathers, some seashells, and soft pink candles. Dean let out a startled laugh, reaching before he could stop himself, and plucked out the small, sensuously curved bottle.

“Girls still wear this?” 

Dean held up the perfume, bottle shaped like a woman’s torso, and Dean knew one sniff would transport him back to being 16 in the backseat of the Impala while “You Are Not Alone” played on the local pop station. Dean much preferred the back side of Zep 4 but had better luck with the pop station as long as that angry Alanis Morrisette song didn’t come on.

“It’s for beauty.”

Dean looked back at the girl and then back down into the alter box. He took the box from her slowly and set it aside before pressing his hands together and looked Madison in the eye.

“Madison did you and Josie go out into the woods with that box?”

Madison’s eyes filled with tears, and Dean cursed inwardly. No wonder the recent disappearances didn’t fit the 23-year pattern. This wasn’t a Wendigo. It was witchcraft.

“We… we just wanted to… invoke the spirit. I know there were only two of us, but we thought for sure Manon would bless us.”

Dean frowned. “Who?”

“Manon,” Madison rolled her eyes and sighed as Dean searched his brain for the name. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Okay, so,” Madison sat up, her hands coming up between them. “If God and the Devil were playing football-“

Dean blinked at her. “What?”

“-Manon would be the stadium that they played on.”

Wait a minute. Dean narrowed his eyes.

“He would be- “

“-the Sun that shone down on them?” Dean finished for her, and Madison’s mouth popped open. “Yeah, I saw The Craft in theaters. Manon ain’t real.”

“Yes, he is!” Madison insisted, her voice raised. “He is! He took Josie!”

“Madison!” Footsteps thumped down the hall, and Dean glanced over his shoulder before turning back quickly and grabbed onto the girl’s shoulders.

“Who took Josie?” 

“You need to leave now, Agent.” Mrs. Naruda stomped in, but Dean didn’t let up.

“Maddie, she could still be alive.”

Madison was sobbing now. “No she can’t. We were standing there, invoking the spirit, and… and… he just _took_ her.”

“Wait; what?” Mrs. Naruda crouched down next to Dean and reached for her daughter’s hands. “You _saw_ who took Josie?”

“That’s it, though!” Maddie’s face was crumpled, her whole body shaking. “I was holding her hands. Mom, I _had her hands in mine_. And I didn’t see what took her. It was too fast.”

“What part of the woods were you in?”

Mrs. Naruda’s head whipped to look at Dean. “You were in the _woods!”_

“Ma’am,” Dean said sharply as Madison started to pull out of both their grips. “Maddie, hey, it’s okay. You gotta pull it together, kiddo. You’re the only one that can help Josie now. You wanna help her, don’t you?”

Madison’s hiccuping sobs began to calm, and her voice came out hollow. “She’s dead.”

“She might not be. Now, did you go to a certain spot? Someplace… sacred?”

Maddie sniffed. “We… we couldn’t get to the beach so… so we figured that maybe instead of using the strength of the ocean to call Manon, we could use the trees. Earth instead of water.”

“Okay, that sounds… smart.” Dean swallowed down the lie the best he could. “Where did you go in at?”

“B-B-Behind the motel. There’s a rock, a big flat one. We use it as an altar.”

“A what?” 

Dean shushed the mother, eyes still on Madison.

“How far in is it? 

Madison shrugged her shoulder. “I dunno. Like, an hour, I guess?”

“ _You walked for an hour into the woods? Without a map?_ ”

“We had our _phones_!” Madison snapped back but then shifted uncomfortably. “The rock is right about where we start to lose our signal.” She glared at her mother. “We’re not _stupid_ , Mom.”

Dean bit his tongue on his comment that he found that debatable. Mrs. Neruda looked like she would probably agree. “How long were you out there?”

Madison huffed. “Look, I _don’t know_ , okay? As long as it took to set up the ritual. Which I had to do _by myself_ because Josie had fricken’ cramps,” Maddie rolled her eyes before they began to fill up with tears. “She bossed me to hurry up. She needed to change her pad. I told her to quit being a crybaby and… and… _then she was gone!_ ” 

Madison dropped her face in her hands again, and Mrs. Naruda gave Dean a rather sharp jab with her elbow to get him to move over so she could be directly in front of her daughter. Madison was wailing about how sorry she was. How she was her real mom, and she didn’t really even care. Mrs. Naruda just shushed her and told her it was okay, and Dean felt his throat close. 

“You should go now, Agent. Please see yourself out.”

Dean didn’t resist, just turned and exited the bedroom. Castiel was standing still as a statue on the welcome mat. Dean shook his head, and Castiel immediately reanimated, lifting his brows in question, and Dean just sighed, motioning for them to go outside first. Castiel opened the door for Dean; the gentle hand Cas placed on Dean’s lower back to guide him through gave Dean shivers. 

“Definitely a Wendigo. The kid said it was about an hour's walk into the woods from behind our motel. Where it snatched her friend.”

“It doesn’t make sense, though, Dean.” Castiel was following him down the front walk, and Dean sighed. “It doesn’t follow the pattern. All those hikers went missing two years ago. It should be dormant for another twenty at least.”

Dean whirled on him. “Yeah, well, for some reason, it ain’t.” Castiel’s brows furrowed, and Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Look, that kid could still be out there, but if we don’t find this thing’s lair soon, she’s gonna be kibble.”

Castiel squinted up at the sky. “We have approximately eight hours until sundown.”

Dean opened the door of the Impala. “Guess we better hurry then.”


	9. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will goes in search of the monster and the missing girl. They all learn a little more about their periods, much to Dean's dismay.

“Alright, everyone look alive. ”

They were in the woods, boots sinking into soft earth, Dean in front navigating via the old beat-up compass that had once been John’s. Sam groaned behind them, and Dean looked over his shoulder, eyes catching on Cas, who was taking up the rear.

“You alright back there, Princess?”

Sam stretched, twisting her hand behind her to rub at her lower back. “Yeah.”

Dean glanced back again. “You do something to your back?” Sam grumbled, and Dean cocked his head back. “Sorry, didn’t catch that. Was that bitching I heard? You know what happens when you bitch on a hike, Sammy.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

“Cas, did I ever tell you about John Winchester’s Rules of the Woods?”

Dean could practically hear Sam’s eye-roll as Castiel responded, “No, Dean.”

“Rule number one,” Dean flicked up a finger. “Always expect you’ll end up in the woods. Keep waterproof matches, water purification tablets, flint, and a sharp knife on you at all times. Rule Number two.” He put up another finger. “No loud clothing. Sam learned that one the hard way.” Dean smirked over his shoulder, and Sam glared.

“Starter jackets were a thing, Dean. Everyone had one.”

“I didn’t have one. You know why?” Dean looked over his shoulder just in time to see Sam roll her eyes. “Because it was windbreaker material and windbreaker material-“

“Made it easier for our sadistic prick of a father to dump me in the middle of the woods and shoot paintball guns at me. Yes, Dean. I remember.”

“In Dad’s defense, I was also pelting you with paintballs.”

Dean stumbled forward when Sam gave a hard shove to the back of his shoulder that he wasn’t expecting and stumbled forward, nearly falling forward. Dean adjusted the pack on his shoulders, wincing at how it settled back onto his already tired shoulders. He checked his watch, nearly too big for his now delicate wrist, and sighed. They’d only been walking for twenty minutes. He felt a tug on the straps and tried to turn to see what had him but found Sam attempting to dig inside.

“What are you doing? Quit!”

“ _ You _ have the M&Ms, Dean.” Sam sighed, and Dean’s thighs trembled as she shoved her arm down into the pack, applying pressure as her arm scrabbled around inside.

“Get off me! Those are mine!”

Sam pulled the family size bag free and zipped Dean’s bag back up before grabbing a handful. Dean spun around and attempted to snatch the bag from her. She evaded easily, giving him a grin.

“Since when do you eat candy on hunts?” Sam shrugged, popping a few in her mouth, and Dean glared at her. “Cas, is she possessed?”

Castiel squinted appraisingly at Sam before he looked back to Dean. “No.”

Sam was distracted enough that Dean was able to sock her in the stomach and snatch the bag of candy, but instead of the usual oof of surprise, Sam let out a sharp cry and went to her knees. M&Ms spilled into the dried leaves and dirt as Dean dropped with her, hand going to Sam’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms around herself, bending over her thighs with a pitiful moan. Dean felt a sharp twinge in his own abdomen and hissed, pressing a hand to it before focusing back on his sister. Castiel was next to them, his hand moving to Sam’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Dean looked up into Castiel’s stoic face, and the angel met his gaze. Something in Dean’s lower abdomen tugged, not hurt this time though part of him felt that it might kill him. Dean shook his head.

“Her uterus is shredding itself still.” Sam gave Castiel’s thigh a weak shove, and Castiel stepped away, and the look on his face made Dean punch Sam in the shoulder.

“Don’t be an asshole to him.” Dean glanced up. “Can’t you… like… angel mojo her some pain killers or something?”

Castiel shook his head. “The spell-“

“-doesn’t allow for that.” Dean finished for him, nodding his head and rolling his eyes. “Of course.”

“I feel like I’m exsanguinating from between my legs.” Sam’s low moan was muffled by her knees, and Dean rubbed soft circles on her back.

“You’re fine. Come on, let’s be a man about it.” Dean hooked an arm under Sam’s and tugged her to her feet. She glared at him.

“I can’t wait for this to happen to you.”

Dean smiled patiently, reaching to pick up the bag of candy. “Yep, cone on. Let’s go.”

“Give me that!” Sam snatched the bag from him, shoved her hand inside, and crammed a handful of the candies in her mouth, then grounding out, “I’m ‘aking lea.’”

Dean shrugged. “Cas, you want some M&Ms?” 

“No, thank you.”

“All food tastes like molecules to him now, remember.” Sam had already started off into the forest, and Dean rolled his eyes, trudging forward to catch up.

“Yeah, but it’s polite to ask-.” 

But Dean didn’t get to finish his sentence. A gray blur streaked through the trees, limbs rustling and in the blink of an eye, Sam was gone, her scream echoing through the trees. Dean’s heart felt like it was clawing its way up his throat as he took off at a run.

Dean didn’t even get a chance to scream her name before he was knocked flat on his face, crying out as his weight landed on his chest, and it wasn’t quite like getting hit in the nuts, but it hurt enough to wind him. An inhuman shriek pierced through Dean’s skull like a pickaxe, the sound growing so loud Dean covered his ears, tears stinging at his eyes before it finally died out. 

Silence, except for the rush of wind through the leaves for a solid ten seconds before Castiel’s voice boomed behind him. “ _ Sam!” _

“Dean! Cas!” 

Dean struggled to his feet, tripping over the underbrush, and he felt a large hand wrap around his bicep, a shock going through his system as Castiel’s hand slotted over the scar all but faded to nothing over the years. The angel immediately let go, hurrying ahead, and Dean blinked, watching him move through the branches and brambles just a little too quick to be human, graceful, and surefooted even in dress shoes. 

Dean hustled to follow, tripping over every stick and rock in his path before coming upon his sister and Castiel, the angel crouched by Sam’s body, propped against a stump. Dean fell to his knees at Sam’s other side, hands sliding all over her, and it felt all wrong. Sam was strong and broad with taut muscles and evident strength. The frail thing under his hands was all boney shoulders and protruding ribs. She whimpered, clutching her stomach, and Dean shoved her hands out of the way, tugging up her shirt but saw no injury.

“I’m fine.” Sam slapped at Dean’s hands finally, hard enough to hurt, and Dean rubbed the stinging skin, scowling at her. “What the hell did you use to torch it? It dropped me and just… just… combusted.”

Dean looked up at Castiel, who had moved over to examine the smoking corpse, which was little more than crumbling bone and ash. Cas nudged the ribcage with the toe of his shoe, and it collapsed in on itself. Dean could feel his mouth hanging open but couldn’t seem to close it. He rubbed his face hard.

“Cas, did you fucking  _ smite _ the Wendigo?”

Castiel looked over at them, eyes wide, and after a moment gave a shrug. “It seemed like the best course of action at the time.”

Dean couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. Sam started, but it ended in a sharp groan as she curled in on herself. 

“Ugh, it feels like I just wet myself.” Sam tried to look between her legs but found nothing but mud on the denim. 

“You said the Wendigo’s hibernation cycle ended two years ago?” Castiel questioned, still examining the smoking corpse.

“Yeah, we couldn’t figure out why it was active again.” Dean heaved Sam up onto her feet, and she winced, testing her stability before she stepped out of Dean’s protective support.

Castiel hummed and turned towards them, chin tipping up as if he were scenting the air. He looked back at Sam abruptly. “The girl. Josie. Her father said she’d just begun menstruating.”

Dean blinked at the angel, then narrowed his eyes as the implication set in. “No. No way. You think a girl walking through the woods on her period woke that thing up? Bullshit, women hikers would go missing  _ way _ more often.”

“Women hikers  _ do _ go missing way more often than men, Dean.” Sam lifted her eyebrow at Dean, who huffed and then huffed again.

“Wait.” Dean held out a hand. “Did  _ you _ figure that out by… by…” Dean gestured vaguely, and Castiel blinked. Dean sighed. “You can  _ smell  _ her?”

Sam made a face and took a step closer to Dean. Castiel’s expression warred between contrite and irritated. “If I try, yes.”

“Creepy, Cas.” Dean shook his head, and Castiel held up his hands in exasperation.

“Do you think you can find the girl that way?”

Dean and Castiel both looked to Sam, who had found the bag of M&Ms nearby and was fishing out a few. Dean blinked at her.

“You’re eating M&Ms right now? Seriously?”

Sam shrugged one shoulder, chewing methodically as she dug in for more. 

“Perhaps.” Castiel’s head was tipped to the side in thought. 

“You seriously almost died.”

“Leave me alone,  _ Diana _ .” Sam glared back, and Dean held up his hands. 

Castiel nudged past them both, head tipped up. “This way.”

Dean and Sam watched him for a moment. “Who knew angels doubled as bloodhounds?” Dean muttered, and Sam chuckled before they started after him.

#

Josie was, of all places, high up in a tree on what looked to be an abandoned hunting blind. As he climbed methodically towards her, Dean wondered if this Wendigo was some kind of anomaly or if it was a Wendigo at all. It’s not like he saw it, and there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot an angel smiting couldn’t kill. By the time he reached the blind, Dean was sweating, his jeans chaffing his thighs, the band of his bra slipping against his skin. His head cleared the ledge and took a few breaths, eyes falling on the girl who’s wrists were bound together and to a railing.

“Josie?” Dean watched her nod at him, eyes wide, and he grinned. “Hey, I’m De-iana. Diana. I’m here to get you down.”

“You… you don’t look like you’re with the fire department.” Josie’s voice quivered, and Dean laughed. 

“Uh, yeah. Nah. Here let me get you loose.” 

Dean wasn’t even halfway down the tree, Josie’s arms tight around his neck, when the fatigue started to get to him. The girl couldn’t have been more than seventy-five pounds, and Dean grit his teeth, attempting to move a little quicker. His thighs were trembling, hands raw against the bark, and he knew that Josie could feel him shaking now, her own hands clamped around his neck, legs around his waist.

“You doing okay up there?” Sam’s voice echoed through the trees, and Dean grit his teeth.

“I’m  _ fine _ , Sam.”

After clearing a few more feet, Sam’s voice wafted up again. “What’s taking you so long?”

“I’m avoiding having to look at your ugly face!”

Josie giggled, and Dean felt himself chuckle as well.

When Dean was close enough to the ground that he gave in, and he let himself go, Josie’s scream making his ear crackle and ring. He managed to land in a crouch, grinding his teeth as his ankle rolled over, and a sharp pain snapped under his heel. Josie let go of him immediately, and Dean sagged forward to his knees, planting his hands against the dirt and feeling his arms and legs trembling uncontrollably. 

“Hey Josie, my name is Sam. I’m D- Diana’s sister.” Sam cleared her throat. “Are you hurt? Here I brought some power bars.” Sam began to dig into her pack, and Castiel handed Dean a bottle of water from his own. He cracked the cap off and chugged it down greedily.

“No, I’m okay.” Josie’s voice was feeble as she took the bar that Sam unwrapped for her as Sam eyed her leggings.

“You sure? You’ve got some blood on your clothes there.”

Dean looked up in time to see Josie’s face go scarlet, eyes skittering to Castiel. “That’s… um…I’m… I didn’t have any…”

“We get it,” Dean waved a hand at her, and she gave Dean an embarrassed smile.

“What… what was that… that…  _ thing? _ ”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean handed the empty bottle back to Castiel, who tucked it into his trench pocket and offered Dean a hand, pulling him to his feet. “It’s gone and won’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

“We should start heading back,” Sam squinted up at the trees, and Dean fought a moan. He was exhausted. The thought of walking for another hour made his eyes sting. He rubbed at them hard.

They set off back towards civilization, Sam and Josie leading while Castiel follow and Dean trailed behind, trying not to limp. He felt like he had weights attached to his legs, back aching, and his hands felt raw from his climb. Dean narrowed his focus, concentrating on the push and pull of air from his lungs, not his tired limbs and sore muscles, not the way his bra was chafing under his breasts and under his arms, not how heavy his boots felt trying to put one foot in front of the other.

“Are you alright?” 

Dean jumped, the voice right next to him, and he hadn’t realized that Castiel had fallen into step beside him. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You seem unsteady,” Castiel commented as it took two tries to clear a downed limb that both Sam and Josie hopped over with ease.

“Yeah, well…” Dean suppressed the urge to bitch and cleared his throat. “I landed funny, and my ankle hurts.”

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He then turned his back to Dean and motioned over his shoulder. Dean felt his cheeks flame.

“No, dude. That was a one-time thing. I’m fine.”

“You know it’s no hardship, Dean. I literally carried you across the entirety of Purgatory-“

“Yeah, and I didn’t like it then either!“

Castiel’s sigh was damning. “Are you so prideful that you’d injure yourself further? You’re stubborn, Dean, but you aren’t stupid.”

If he’d had any more energy, he would have protested further. Still, from where he stood, exhausted, sweaty, and aching, a piggy-back ride from an angel of the Lord sounded a hell of a lot better than continuing to drag his weary girl meat suit through the forest another mile and a half. Dean heaved a sigh and stepped up to Castiel, hands planting on the man’s shoulders before giving a little hop as Cas dipped and Dean ended up perched on the angel’s back. Castiel took a minute to get Dean situated, forearms hooking under Dean’s thighs, and Dean’s arms went around Cas’ shoulders before he set off, catching up with Sam and Josie in a few strides.

“Have you tried using a heating pad?”

“No, but Cas got me a hot water bottle in the last city we were passing through, and  _ that _ was nice.”

“Yeah, any type of heat is good. And keeping your feet up.” Josie gave a nod.

Sam snorted. “How… how is it possible to lose  _ this much blood _ and… and…” Sam stopped in her tracks suddenly eyes wide as if just realizing she was standing face to face with an actual female. 

Josie frowned up at her. “Are you okay?”

“Is it supposed to just… gush like that?”

Josie gave a soft giggle, starting to walk again. “I mean, yeah, it can.”

“It started kind of brown, and now it’s bright red. Is that normal?”

“Yeah. Gross, right?”

“Yeah, really gross. Can we talk about something else, please?” Dean’s whine was irritating even to his own ears, and he felt Castiel’s chuckle reverberate through his back. Dean fought a shiver.

“What, you can take down some kind of monster, but period talk makes you squeamish?” Josie looked over her shoulder at Dean and giggled when Dean scowled at her.

Josie looked up at Sam. “Have you ever had a clot so big you literally  _ felt _ _ it _ fall out of you?”

Dean groaned, head falling to Castiel’s shoulder. “I need alcohol.”


	10. Fight Like A Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena pays the girls a visit, Sam gets a surprise and Dean does the exact opposite of what Castiel asks of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for non-con elements in this chapter

They arrived back at the bunker some 28-odd-hours later. Dean had driven the entire way, and he felt exhausted, eyes stinging from being open so long, but the buzzing of caffeine through his veins let him know he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Maybe Cas would be up for a movie. He looked over his shoulder to ask when a shrill feminine voice broke through the silence of the library.

“Well, well, well, just look at you, lovely ladies!” 

Rowena stood from her seat at the map table, eyes sparkling with malicious glee. Both women glared at her as they descended the stairs, Castiel trailing behind them, his face weary. 

“My apologies for not dropping by sooner. I had a wee bit of a mess to clean up. Samuel, are you quite alright, dear?” Rowena’s brow creased with concern as Sam turned her miserable face towards the witch.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, muttering out of the side of his mouth. “This outta be good.”

“No, Rowena. I’m  _ not _ alright. I’m about as  _ far _ from alright as  _ anyone _ could be at this point in time.”

Rowena’s eyebrows rose. “What’s the matter, love?”

Sam stomped up to her, getting right in Rowena’s face, hazel eyes flashing. “Don’t. You. ‘Love.’ Me. You… you… witch.”

Rowena gave a delighted giggle. “Oh, look at you. The hormones are just pouring off you.”

“I have been bleeding. From a very inconvenient place for the last forty-eight hours.”

“I know, dear, and that’s why I’m here.” Rowena couldn’t contain her grin as she swept her arm back, indicating the spread on one of the library tables. It was then they saw the pink foil CONGRATULATIONS banner strung over the back table. 

Sam sputtered, “What… the hell, are you…? What  _ is _ this? “

“It’s your First Moon Party! They’re all the rage now. Look! I found little ovary confettis! And, of course, vagina cupcakes. They’re red velvet!”

“I need alcohol. Now.” Dean didn’t wait for a reply from anyone, just shuffled towards the kitchen, and Rowena’s eyes tracked him as she explained how pin-the-pad-on-the-period was played, a smirk pulling at her lips when Castiel followed Dean.

Dean was absolutely  _ not _ going to think about how what was happening to Sam was likely going to be happening to him relatively soon. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and drank straight from it. They were nearing the halfway mark—no reason to start getting squeamish now. Maybe the excess hormones would help with his  _ other _ problem.

“Dean?”

Dean jumped, spitting whiskey all over the counter, and Castiel grabbed a towel, quickly bringing it to her face. Dean snatched it away. “I got it, Cas. Thank you.” He knew his voice didn’t sound remotely grateful. 

Castiel pursed his lips. “Um… Claire called.” Dean looked down at the phone in Castiel’s hand. “She left me a voicemail. I think she needs help on a job.”

Dean brought the bottle to his lips, eyes going half-lidded as the bitter liquid burned all the way down to his belly. “Okay, well, text if you need anything, I guess.”

Castiel looked uncertain. “What about you and Sam?”

Dean blinked at him. “What about us?”

Castiel shifted from foot to foot. “Well, since you’ve been…” Castiel’s eyes moved slowly down Dean’s body, and Dean could feel the weight of it as if it were hands mapping over his curves. His nipples tightened. “…different, my presence has been… needed.”

It was silent for a moment before Dean realized he was expected to speak. He cleared his throat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cas. Girls or not, Sam and I can take care of ourselves.” Dean took a perfunctory swig from the bottle and told himself the wounded look on Castiel’s face was because Dean hadn’t offered to share.

“Okay,” Castiel said finally and looked down at his phone, thumbing at the screen. “I should probably get on the road. She’s in Delaware…”

Dean licked his lips about to take another drink from the bottle and felt a flush spread across his chest, seeing Castiel’s eyes trace the movement. That familiar ache pulled in his gut. He was such a fucking lightweight now. “Safe travels.” 

Dean tipped the neck of the bottle at Castiel before he slowly wrapped his lips around it, tipping it back slow and watching Castiel’s reaction. He doubted anyone else would note the subtle shift of his features, how his eyes went from cautious to longing as Dean’s tongue slipped in the end of the bottle before inviting the liquid into his mouth, swallowing a mouthful. Dean bringing the bottle back down seemed to reanimate Castiel, his body jerking as he looked down at his phone again before attempting to turn left and right simultaneously, which resulted in a ridiculous stutter step that made Dean giggle. 

“I’ll be on my way then…” Castiel turned and headed for the hall but stopped in the doorway, turning to Dean once more. “Dean…”

“Yeah, Cas?” 

“Will you?… Can you not go on any hunts while I’m gone?”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “You want me to stop hunting without you?”

“And Sam,” Castiel amended quickly. “Just… just until you’re… back to normal.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, wanting to tell Cas to shove his patriarchal bullshit right up his ass, but the genuine look of apprehension in his eyes made Dean’s throat go dry. He looked away, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Not going anywhere with Sam leaking like the Titanic. We’re due for a break.” Dean gave Castiel a wan smile, and Castiel pressed his lips together, heaving a sigh out his nose.

“I suppose that’s the best I can ask for,” Castiel muttered, and Dean grinned at him, bringing the bottle back up to his lips.

“See you when you get back.”

#

_ “Goddammit _ !” Dean bellowed as he was flung back against the wall, icy fingers curling around his throat, and his hands trembled, trying to cock the sawed-off, but it was more challenging than it used to be. 

He fired and was released, ankles rolling as he hit the ground, and his cry of pain was answered with a high-pitched shriek from Sam. Dean scrambled up, hobbling on what felt like at least one sprained ankle, and moved towards the source of the scream. Sam was on her butt, long legs straight in front of her, shotgun against her shoulder. That kept happening, the blast knocking her backward. It was funny at first; now, it was just a liability. 

“Where’s Ricky?” Dean demanded, whipping his head around and trying to load more shells into the shotgun. 

“Dunno. Outran him and Steve at the first turn.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “What a couple-a useless- SHIT!” Dean lifted the shotgun as the spirit appeared but was too slow, and it flew from his hands. He was tossed again, landing on top of Sam this time, and his sister groaned.

Then Steve and Ricky appeared, guns blazing, and Dean curled around Sam, gathering her limbs up and trying to block her from the blast. The ghost shrieked, a pulse of energy blowing them back, and they hit the wall of the crypt with a sickening crack. 

The spirit whirled, more of a black shape than anything else, and the rage that emanated from it crackled the air around them. Dean held Sam tighter as it floated towards them, one clawed hand reaching. He’d managed to scoot them into an alcove where an urn sat on a shelf above them, essentially trapping themselves there. They were going to die on a routine salt and burn. And as girls. Cas didn’t even know they were there. Dean barely recognized his voice as he whimpered the angel’s name, closing his eyes and tucking his face into Sam’s bun.

Suddenly the air pressure in the crypt bottomed out, Dean’s ears popping painfully, and he didn’t dare look up. A cool fingertip ran down the back of his neck, gentle though it was so cold it nearly burned. Dean peeked over, finding a white face right there near his, her eyes a cloudy brown, brow wrinkled with worry. Dean tried to scramble back farther, legs wrapped around Sam’s and trying to drag her body up with him. They hadn’t counted on two spirits. 

“You must leave this place.” Her voice was a strange echo, urgent. “You’re not safe.”

“Yeah, lady, we get that.” Dean groused, pushing himself off his sister and huffing as he rolled onto his back. Sam groaned as she pushed herself up onto her elbows.

“He’s angry.” The spirit looked over her shoulder, eyeing the two hunters passed out across the crypt. “I’ve dispelled him, but it won’t last. You have to leave. Take your friends and go.”

“What is he?” Sam asked, rubbing at her elbow and finding it skinned and bloody. She grumbled about her shirt.

“He was my husband.” The ghost’s smile was sad, tears slipping down her cheeks, and Dean never understood how ghosts could cry. “He was never a good man, but… he was mine.” She gave a short nod before her face went dark, and she leaned in closer. “He killed the chambermaids. All of them. Blamed the slave hands, but it was him.” She looked away. “He… did things to them.”

Dean felt bile rise in his throat. “Is there anything in here that’s his? Clothes, remains, anything?”

She looked up at them, her eyes wet still. “Listen, you  _ must leave _ . He’ll do it to you. Please,  _ please _ go. I can’t save you from that. I couldn’t save them either!”

“Dean, we should go.” Sam’s voice trembled, and she began to scramble to her feet. 

Dean followed suit. “Not until we get this done. What’s your name?”

The spirit grimaced, looking around as if someone could help her convince them. “It’s Liza.”

“Okay, Liza, you’re doing great. And we’re here to help you. We can send your husband away, so he never hurts another soul. Alive or dead.”

Liza’s eyes grew wide, and Dean fought the urge to yell when her cold hands grabbed for his. It was like shoving them in ice water. “You can?”

“Yes,” Dean fought the chatter of his teeth. “Now, is there anything in here that belonged to him? Anything special or even just…” Dean shook her hands off, unable to think with the cold. “Hair, nails. Anything.”

Liza looked around. “I… I wore a lock of his hair.” Her hand moved to clutch the locket around her neck. “It’s-“

Her head ratcheted back, an inhuman screech pulling from her as her visage began to burn. Dean looked over, finding that Ricky had started a fire in the sarcophagus, his grin sinister in the glowing flames. 

“No!” Dean screamed, running to the stone coffin, trying to see through the smoke. He shoved his hand in, grappling around at the neck, feeling bones snap and turn to dust as he clawed around for a locket, but there wasn’t one. He snatched his hand back as the flames began to lick at his elbow. “Son of a bitch!”

“Oh, come on, Diana. It wasn’t nothing but your standard spirit roast!” Ricky waved a hand, and Dean looked over at him in disbelief. Did this asshat  _ really _ think that Dean was  _ impressed? _

“Hey, fuckstick. You torched the wrong ghost! She was about to tell us where the remains of her husband are when you ganked her.”

“What?” Ricky sputtered a laugh. “No, no, there was only one spirit here.”

“We thought so too,” Sam staggered over, grabbing onto Dean’s shoulder, and that was when he realized he was trying to stay steady on one foot. “But she said-“

“Yeah, well, a spirit will say pretty much anything to keep from gettin’ got.” Steve was hobbling over himself, rubbing at the egg-sized lump on his forehead.

“No, but-”

“Come on, girls. Let’s get outta here and grab some breakfast.” Ricky threw an arm around Sam. “You been to the diner just outside-a town? Up Rt 51. Best pot roast you ever had in your life.” Ricky waved a hand, and Sam looked over her shoulder at Dean. “Also got a nice spot to look out over the lake. I could take you there…”

“Welp, looks like it’s you and me, sweetheart.” Steve looked about as enthused as Dean did. 

“Listen, man; I’m tellin’ you. That wasn’t the right-”

“Let’s just get outta this crypt before we start squabbling about technique. Being underground really freaks me out.” Steve gave a shudder and began to shuffle towards the exit. Dean looked up at the ceiling and gestured helplessly in frustration. 

As soon as Steve cleared the doorway, the stone slid sharply back into place, and Dean’s body went rigid. “ _ SAM!” _

The temperature dropped about twenty degrees in as few seconds, his breath clouding past his lips.  _ “DEAN!” _

Dean turned, reaching for his sawed-off, cocking it back as his eyes whirled around the crypt. “ _ Sam where would the locket be if it’s not on the wife _ ?”

“Shit, this door is heavy.”

“How’d it even fall shut in the first place, Rick?”

“ _ Get out of the way! _ ” Sam’s voice accompanied the oofs of the other two as she pushed herself against the stone door. “What about a daughter?”

Dean shuffled back, keeping his shoulders pressed to the wall of the crypt as she moved around, trying to read the plaques on the grave slots without turning his back to the room. “I’ve got an Elizabeth. Died 1894. Firstborn girl?”

“Try it!” A growing rumble drowned out Sam’s voice, and Dean used the butt of the gun to crack the stone blocking the entrance to the slot.

The top of a skull with a few wisps of hair greeted him with the stench of death. Dean shoved his hand in blindly, knocking the skull off the neck and snatching around for a necklace.

“Nothing!”

A shadowy figure appeared, rushing at Dean, and he could feel his ribs cracking as it hit him full force, nowhere to go. He shot blindly, and it disappeared before reappearing across the crypt.

“He died first, right?” 

Dean shucked the shell and brought the gun up. “Little busy for trivia right now, Sammy.” He fired, and the shadow exploded only to take shape in a different corner.

“Maybe they put the locket in with his remains! She didn’t want to be cremated so that they couldn’t share an urn, but they might have put a piece of her with him!”

Dean fired again and dove for the alcove holding the urn, knocking it from its stand, and it shattered on the floor. A necklace skidded across the cobblestones, and Dean lunged for it, but something caught his ankle. He cried out, pulling the gun up as he rolled over and fired again, the stock beating back against his aorta, and he was breathless momentarily, stunned but still trying to function. Gasping for breath, Dean pulled himself forward with one hand, the other grappling in his jacket pocket for his lighter. He reached for the locket, barely got his fingers on it when he was drug backward again, luckily pulling it with him. He discarded the gun, ignoring the clawing up his legs as he fiddled to get the locket open. A tuft of hair fell onto his chest, and he snatched for it, flicking at his lighter as an immense pain bloomed between his legs, feeling as if something were shoving inside him violently, something sharp and barbed.

It was only by chance that the hair caught fire because Dean had dropped both it and the lighter in an effort to protect his privates, hands trying to block himself, but whatever it was just kept pushing as if it were never-ending. It relented only when an unearthly scream nearly shattered his eardrums, the shadowy shape writhing and twisting as it was eaten up by blacker flames. 

Dean was panting on the ground when Ricky and Steve finally got the stone pulled out of the way, his hands cupping the space between his legs while he kept his knees together and curled to his chest, ankles locked around one another. Sam was screaming his name, trying to tug his hands away to look, but Dean just shook his head, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth a few times before letting Sam pull him to his feet. 

“Well that was unexpected,” Ricky said with a chuckle, and both Sam and Dean shot him a glare as Sam tugged Dean’s arm around her shoulders and supported his weight as they hobbled to the door.

“Are you okay?” Sam muttered under her breath, and Dean gave a hum of assent though it was clear he was in pain. “Your ankle?” Dean hummed again. “Did… um… something. You’re holding your-“

“I’m fine, Sam.” Dean snapped, shuddering against the memory of it, quick and sharp. 

He ached there now, burned. It reminded him of how he felt after trying to get himself off, a bit raw and stretched. The comparison made his mouth water, bile rising quick, and he barely got a hand up to hold on to the wall before the contents of his stomach came roaring out of his mouth. Sam gathered his hair, holding it at the base of his skull and the cramping of his stomach made something deeper inside of him cramp. Sam handed him a handkerchief, and he wiped at his mouth, standing on shaking legs for a few deep breaths before throwing an arm around Sam again and let her lead him out of the tomb.

“Soooo, do you wanna stop for some grub?” 

Sam and Dean turned slowly to look at Ricky. He had his hands in his pockets, looking hopefully at Sam. Sam’s mouth turned down, her eyes crinkling as she emphatically said. “No.”

Sam shook her head in disbelief, and Dean fought the urge to chuckle at the confused expressions on Steve and Ricky’s face as he and Sam turned away. “What, you girls don’t like to celebrate after a case?”

“Not when one of us was impaled by a sadistic spirit. No.” Dean’s voice was sharp as they shuffled towards the Impala.

“Well, uh, you have our numbers!” Ricky called, and Dean and Sam looked at each other before rolling their eyes. “We’re always happy to help!”

“Sam?” Dean winced as Sam helped him into the passenger seat, not even arguing about who was driving. 

“Yeah, Dean?”

“Any girl hunters ask us for help-“

“We drop everything and go.”

Dean’s head fell back against the seat as Sam moved to slam the door. “Yeah.” He closed his eyes and sighed.


	11. What It Feels Like For A Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally asks for some sisterly advice and Castiel provides much-needed relief.

The bottom of Dean’s fist slammed against Sam’s door and the sound of something hitting the floor before a breathless. “Hang on a sec!” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, gingerly supporting his heavy breasts, clutching the neck of his robe closed. Sam’s sweaty face appeared at the crack in the door. “What?”

“How are you doing it?” Dean demanded, gesturing at the door, and Sam looked down before looking back at Dean, confused.

“Doing what?”

“ _ Coming like that! _ ” Dean practically screeched, and Sam’s face went tomato red. “Yeah, I can  _ hear _ you. What the  _ hell  _ are you doing?”

“Um…well-”

“Is it some post-period hormone surge or something? Are you using a toy?” Dean tried to peek past Sam into her room. “I got some things from Amazon, and let me tell you. Size fucking matters in a way I never understood until now. What size are you using?”

“ _ Dean! _ ” Sam’s eyes were closed, and Dean stomped a foot.

“Would you fucking stop. I taught you everything you know about sex, Sam. I  _ know _ everything.” Dean flicked out a finger. “I taught you how to go down on a girl.” He flicked out another. “I taught you how to finger a girl.” He threw his hands in the air. “Although now I’m starting to believe I am not the master of the finger bang that I once believed.” Dean crossed his arms again.

Sam shook her head. “Wait…  _ what _ ?”

“ _ I haven’t had an orgasm in three weeks, Sam. I need to get off. Now, tell me how you’re doing it!” _

Sam’s jaw hung open, hazel eyes blinking, and Dean pressed a hand to his face as she burst out laughing, body curling forward with the force of it.

“Sam…”

“ _ Oh my god…” _

“Sam… I swear…”

“ _ You… you can’t make yourself come. _ ” Sam’s hysterical laughter made Dean roll his eyes and plant his hands on his hips, foot tapping as he waited for it to subside.

“Are you done yet? Are you gonna help me now?”

Sam snorted. “Absolutely not.”

Dean’s face screwed up in indignation. “ _ Why not _ ?”

“Because that’s  _ gross _ , dude!”

Dean pointed a finger in Sam’s face. “No. You know what’s gross? Cleaning up your blowouts when we were kids. This is brothers helping brothers.”

“Sisters.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Sam shook her head. “Man, Dean Winchester, infamous lothario can’t make a woman come. I just…” Sam sighed and gave a chef’s kiss.

“I’m gonna rip your tits off. What little there are of them.” Dean’s palm planted on the door, and Sam pressed her body weight against it.

“Okay fine, fine.” Sam stepped back from the door and gestured him in. 

Dean slipped in, the smell of sex assaulting his nose, and he wanted to gag. Sam was naked, her knobby spine smooth and white as she stooped to pick up a t-shirt that fit when she’d been a man and now swallowed her thin, feminine body down to her thighs. Sam flopped on the end of the bed as Dean tiptoed closer, wary of a bare foot on a used condom out of habit. Sam reached over the side of the bed and grabbed something clear and heavy.

“Is that  _ glass _ ?” Dean inched closer as Sam held it up and Dean started to get closer but seeing it still slick made him recoil. “Ew.”

“You asked.” Sam shrugged and dropped it on the towel she’d laid across the bed.

“That’s it.” Dean eyed it. “That’s all you’re using? And you’re coming  _ that _ many times and  _ that _ hard?”

Sam shrugged. “Jess had a glass one, so I figured-“

“How are you using it?” Sam blinked at him. Dean gestured, a rolling motion with his hand. “Like are you on your back or-”

“Oh, yeah.” Sam gave a short nod and just continued to stare at him. 

“Are you… touching your boobs or your clit or…”

Sam’s face scrunched up. “Well the base kind of bumps against me, so… I mean I’ll roll a nipple every once in a while, but it’s really more about the rhythm, I guess.” She gave one shrug of a shoulder, and the neck of her t-shirt slid off.

Dean scoffed. “That’s not helpful  _ at all _ , Sam.”

“Well I’m sorry that I orgasm easier than you do,  _ Dean _ . I don’t know what to tell you. Have you googled it?”

Dean glared at him. “Yes, I’ve googled it,” he snapped. “I tried the water method. I tried vibrators and g-spot things and butt plugs -  _ shut up Sam _ \- and every fucking position you can fathom. I get close, but even if there is any… I dunno what you call it… muscle spasm; it’s not satisfying. In fact, it makes it fucking  _ worse _ .”

Dean whined, body vibrating with displeasure, and Sam had to bite her lip on a laugh. “Maybe you need to get laid.”

Dean’s head whipped to look at Sam. “What? Like… like… with a guy?” Dean clutched at the neck of his robe, and Sam  _ did _ laugh at that. Dean scowled.

“I can’t just fuck some guy!”

“Why you fucked random girls all the time!”

“Yeah, well, this is different!” Dean’s arms tightened across his chest. “First of all, I’m not giving  _ any _ of those gross ass neanderthals at the bar  _ any _ of this.” Dean gestured to his body, and Sam gave a spastic giggle. “Actually, I can’t think of  _ anyone _ I’d even consider fucking.” Dean rubbed at his chin. “Except maybe…”

Sam batted her eyelashes. “ _ Yes _ ?”

Dean’s face closed off. “Never mind. No one.”

Sam’s eye roll took over her entire body, so much so that she pitched herself sideways and face planted into her pillows. “You are unbelievable,” was her muffled reply.

“What?” Dean asked, shoulders wiggling defensively as his brain tried to take him somewhere he’d been desperately avoiding going for a very long time.

Sam sat up, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in a patient sigh. “Dean.” She took his hands in hers and held his gaze. Her thumbs moved over his knuckles in a soothing way that automatically made him uncomfortable. They didn’t touch each other like that. It was a very  _ sister _ thing to do. Sam did it again, and Dean shifted, loosening a bit. “You have  _ zero _ reasons to hide anything from me. No matter what it is.” Sam shook her head as she spoke. “I love you, no matter what. You know that.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Is your period coming back? Because-”

Sam waved a dismissive hand. “I know how you feel about Cas.” Dean’s face blanched. “And I know what Dad taught you about those feelings.” Dean looked away. “Dad was an asshole.” Dean looked at Sam with pursed lips, and Sam’s stare only intensified. “He was, especially about that shit. What he thinks doesn’t matter. He’s dead, man.” Sam gave a shrug. “Stop trying to adhere to some set of rules no one is holding you to.”

“What are you trying to say, Sam?” Dean huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“That the air changes when you and Cas are in a room together.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest. “That you stare at each other  _ way _ too long to be socially appropriate, and you bitch at him for standing too close when  _ you _ do the same thing without realizing it all the time.” Sam grinned at him. “If he’d been a chick, it wouldn’t have even been a question for you.”

“Yeah, well, he ain’t a chick is he.” Dean wiped at his mouth, skin hot, and he shifted uncomfortably, the wetness between his legs a distraction he didn’t need right now.

“Yeah but  _ you _ are.” 

Dean blinked. “What?”

“ _ You _ are a chick. At this moment in time, there is no reason, by your own standards, that you couldn’t get it with Cas.” Sam sucked in a deep breath. “Just to be clear, there’s no reason at all you couldn’t be doing it when you’re a guy either, but let’s take this one step at a time.”

“So… so…” Dean reached up to rub his face. “So I’m just supposed to walk down the hall,” Dean gestured in the direction of Castiel’s room. “And ask him to fuck me?”

Sam bit her lip on a giggle. “Or you could  _ tell _ him to. If you’re into that?” Sam gave a casual shrug but ruined the effect when she curled in on a smothered laugh.

“Oh ha ha.” Dean huffed, looking off into the distance. “He’s practically a virgin. How is he going to know-”

“Uh, Cas gets laid nearly as much as you do.” Sam shifted on the bed, her face knowing, and Dean’s jaw dropped.

“ _ What _ ?”

“Yeah, not usually when you’re around, but he and I go out some times.”

Dean’s lips puckered as he began to form a question, but his mind stalled. When it revved back up again, his hands flailed. “Wait.  _ What _ ?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Why do you think he needed the 12V air compressor for his truck?”

Dean blinked. “Uh because it’s a piece of shit, and he refuses to get new tires?”

Sam shook her head. “Or he uses it to blow up an air mattress in the bed when he takes them out onto the prairie.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, his arms tightening over his chest. “That  _ mother fucker _ .”

“Jealous?”

Dean snorted. “ _ No! _ I just… why’d he hide it from me?” Dean shifted on his feet, and Sam’s face turned soft in a way that made Dean very uncomfortable.

“Because he didn’t want you to think he moved on.”

“He told you that?”

“Didn’t have to.” Sam folded her hands and propped her elbows on her knees so she could rest her chin on her knuckles. “You gonna go over there and give him a little  _ hey how ya doin’?” _

Dean cut his eyes at her, tongue moving behind his teeth, and shifted. “I guess I could see if he’s up.” Sam sniggered. “ _ Shut up _ . Put your fucking headphones in.”

Sam snorted. “ _ Gladly _ . Go get him, sis.”

#

When Castiel answered the door, he was wearing an old t-shirt of Dean’s and a pair of Sam’s sweatpants. His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Hello, Dean.”

“Yeah. Hi.” Dean’s arms were crossed over his chest, bare foot scuffing against the concrete floor of the hallway. 

“Did… you need something?” Castiel’s gaze was intense as always, and Dean felt his tummy flip over. 

“Erm…” He reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Would you…?” Dean’s voice trailed, looking up into Castiel’s open and curious face, and god, could he do this? He couldn’t do this. “Sorry. I… never mind.” Dean waved a hand and turned away, shuffling down the hall. 

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean shivered, feeling the rumble of Cas’ voice all the way down his spine, and he spun around, charging back over. “D’you wanna go for a ride?”

Castiel blinked, startled by the abrupt change of pace, and he glanced down at Dean’s robe. “Um… now?” Dean bobbed his head sharply, and Castiel looked back into his room as if there were a way out. Dean was about to call the whole thing off when Castiel’s eyes met his again. “Do I need to change?”

Dean let his eyes crawl over him and, for once, didn’t suppress the urge to lick his lips. “No.”

Castiel gave a nod and stepped out, right into Dean’s space as he pulled the door closed behind him. Dean really should move. The front of Castiel’s sweats rasped against the front of Dean’s robe, and Dean found himself gazing slightly up into Castiel’s eyes as the angel pulled himself to his full height. 

“Do  _ you _ need to change?”

Dean shook his head, eyes holding on Castiel’s before he turned away, bare feet making a soft thwacking noise on the cement in the hall. He could feel Cas behind him, his own bare feet making no sound. Dean imagined he could feel Cas’ gaze on him like a caress, and his nipples tightened against the cotton of his robe. They made their way to the garage. Castiel instinctively moved towards the Impala, but Dean reached for his arm, soft fingertips skating across the delicate skin of his inner elbow, and goosebumps erupted on Castiel’s skin. He went to rub at it swiftly.

“What?”

“Let’s take your truck.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You hate my truck.”

“I don’t  _ hate _ your truck.”

“You say it smells-”

“Well, it  _ is _ burning oil, man.”

“-and the engine makes the wrong noises-

“You’re going to have to replace that carb eventually.”

“-And the seats are uncomfortable.”

“I don’t plan on being in the front seat very long.”

There, Dean said it, now all he had to do was stand there, with his arms crossed - which made his tits look  _ awesome _ , by the way - and wait for the penny to drop. Castiel blinked, frowning as he mulled over the words for a full minute. That’s when Dean remembered that, angel or not, Cas was a man - or learned to be one from himself and his brother - and was likely very dense. Dean sighed and let his arms fall.

“Come on. Take me where you take the others.” He moved to the passenger side of the truck, hand gripping the handle and pulling.

“Others?”

Dean looked back to find Castiel squinting at him with his head tilted, and Dean couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, Cas. What do you say to them?” Dean folded his arms over his chest again, shaking his hair back to reveal the long column of his neck, shifting so the neck of his robe opened to V deeply towards his cleavage. He pitched his voice low, which was still nowhere near low in his feminine pitch. “You should see the stars out on the prairie.” 

Castiel’s eyes widened, and of course, that was Cas’ line. It was one of Dean’s best, and he wasn’t exactly mad that Cas had borrowed it, just a little nervous that he wasn’t going to use it on Dean when Dean was standing there blatantly asking for it. They each stood stock still, neither breathing. Finally, Castiel blinked, head turning to look at the grill of his truck before his gaze returned to Dean. 

“It really is quite lovely this time of night.”

Dean’s chin tipped down, and with the way Castiel’s pupils dilated, he knew that despite the change in form, Dean still had the smolder. “Take me.”

#

When the old pickup rolled to a halt at the top of a gentle hill overlooking the prairie, Dean’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he wondered if Cas could hear it. Castiel’s movements were slow and intentional as he shifted into park, long fingers reaching to kill the engine. The sudden silence crawled along Dean’s skin like a bead of sweat, making its way down his spine. Castiel turned to look at him and despite the angle being all wrong - Castiel in the driver’s seat, Dean riding passenger - it felt familiar, safe.

Dean wasn’t sure who leaned in to who, but their lips managed to meet somehow. As far as kisses went, it wasn’t much to write home about, more of a peck really, closed-mouthed and chaste. They hovered in each other’s space, eyes slowly creaking open to hold each other’s gaze as they’d always done, just not from this proximity. Castiel kissed him again, eyes still open, and Dean didn’t understand how this wasn’t awkward as hell, but it wasn’t. He kissed Cas, still holding the angel’s gaze, getting a little bit of wetness in there this time, and the seat squeaked as Castiel went for it, hand slipping back into Dean’s hair, eyes sinking closed, and  _ kissed _ him. If Dean had been capable of higher thought at that moment, he would have been proud of him.

As it was, Dean just latched on to Castiel’s shoulders and let him trap Dean back against the door, the angel’s hand cushioning Dean’s head against the window as his mouth devoured Dean’s. In all the fantasies Dean definitely  _ had not had _ about kissing Castiel, nothing could compare to this. He’d envisioned Cas being shy and clumsy, stuttering and cautious, but Castiel was none of those things. He knew what to do with his tongue; trace it along the swell of Dean’s bottom lip, then the cupid’s bow of the top, and finally the seam. When Dean granted him entry, he teased his way in slow, lapping playfully at Dean’s tongue before sliding against it in a way that brought an unintentional whimper from Dean’s throat. 

Castiel pulled back to look at his face, hand smoothing against his cheek to tuck his hair behind his ear, and Dean felt the heat of his blush throb in his cheeks and between his legs. Castiel kissed him again, and Dean sunk into it, arms moving to circle Castiel’s neck and pull him close. They kissed for a long time, Castiel’s hands staying in Dean’s hair and at his neck, cupping his face. Dean’s hands were bolder, trailing down Cas’ chest, wandering up and down his back. Dean tried to nip at Castiel’s jaw, but Cas leaned back, swooping in to claim Dean’s mouth, and Dean was lost again. His hips shifted against the seat, wanted to get his leg up, to get Cas between them, but Castiel had him effectively pinned.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?” His lips vibrated against Dean’s; eyes still closed as he switched to soft, chaste pecks again so that Dean could speak haltingly.

“Do you… want to… maybe… take this… to… the bed?”

Castiel froze, and Dean did the same, watching as Castiel’s eyes slowly opened. Dean felt like a speck in the grand scheme of the cosmos, a blip of light in Cas’ millennia of existence, finding wisdom and knowledge beyond reason staring back at him. He often forgot that Cas was something other, ancient and great, even fallen as he was. To Dean, Cas was always just his.

“Dean…” Castiel dropped his gaze and shifted back slowly, and even in the fogged-up heat of the cab, the loss of Castiel’s body made Dean shiver. “We shouldn’t.”

Dean felt the rejection like a hard slap across the face, sitting up instantly and gathering his robe tight around himself. “O-oh… um… Okay. S-sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Castiel said quickly, his hand moving to Dean’s bicep, and it was as if electricity had shot through the connection straight to his chest, butterflies letting loose in his stomach as something in him remembered the touch even if the scar was long gone.

“Is it… is it like…” Dean gestured to himself, shifting in his seat and pressed his thighs together against the friction.

“No.” Castiel chuckled low and shook his head. “No, Dean, your body is…” Dean looked up when he paused and found Castiel’s eyes roving over his frame, eyes dark with lust, and Dean felt a sharp tug in his lower belly, a trickle of want escaping between his legs. “I find you desirable, no matter your form.” Castiel cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“Than what’s the holdup?”

Castiel’s eyes whipped to Dean’s, and he looked down immediately again. He lifted a hand to rub at the shell of his ear, a habit he’d picked up from Dean when feeling awkward. “I… I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Like what?”

Castiel shifted again, and in the bright moonlight, Dean could tell his face was getting redder. “Like with the others,” Castiel muttered, turning his head to look out the driver’s side window, squinting out at the prairie. 

Dean let out a spastic giggle. “How many others  _ were _ there, Cas?”

Castiel turned his head further away and shifted restlessly again. Dean bit his lip, leaning forward and climbing onto his knees to press his lips to Castiel’s pulse point. Cas jumped, a gasp ripping through his throat as Dean rested a delicate hand on his thigh for balance and began to pepper kisses under his ear. 

“How did you want it to be, Cas?” Dean’s voice was low, breath hot on the damp skin he’d bathed in kisses, and when Dean was rewarded with a field of goosebumps, he did it again. 

“I don’t know…”

“Surely you had a way you wanted it.” Dean sucked Castiel’s earlobe into his mouth, hand inching a bit higher, and Castiel’s thigh tensed, Dean fighting a moan at how thick the muscle felt under his palm. “If you didn’t want it like this…”

“I kind of…” Castiel let out a chuckle as Dean breathed hot against his ear. “That tickles.” Dean allowed himself to giggle and tilted his head to nip at the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, making the angel gasp, and a low moan rumbled in his throat that made Dean’s insides clench. 

“Fuck,” Dean hissed, shifting on his knees and feeling the slickness of his thighs rubbing together. He was so wet he was almost sure Cas could smell it, his desire. Dean shifted again, allowing his breast to drag against Castiel’s arm, feel the scrape of his nipple through the fabric.

“The Impala.” Castiel’s hand clamped around Dean’s wrist before it could move higher. “I… guess I’d always thought it’d be…” Castiel gulped and looked down at his hand around Dean’s delicate wrist. The sheepish smile that pulled across his face made Dean grin. “I guess I always figured it’d be in the Impala.” Castiel peeked up at Dean, and Dean took the opportunity to bring their faces together.

“You wanna stop now to go switch vehicles?” Dean lifted an eyebrow, his lips brushing against Castiel’s and Cas’ eyes were wide, lust blown and deep. He gave a minute shake of his head, and Dean smiled.

“You should inflate the mattress.” Dean pecked Cas’ lips before he slid back over to his side and pushed the door open, slipping out into the balmy Kansas night.

Dean leaned against the truck’s wheel well as Castiel worked in the bed, the sound of the pump a dull hum drowned out by the prairie wind when it gusted. The stars were out in all their glory, the Milky Way hazy above them, and Dean was mesmerized for a bit, thinking about how Cas used to live up there, among the stars, saw them burst into existence along with everything else. He’d never understand how someone who’d seen all the glory of creation could look at him with such awe and adoration.

Dean didn’t look back down until Cas was tossing a heavy afghan over the side of the truck, having already applied a water blue fitted sheet and top sheet to the queen size mattress that was now snuggly in the truck bed. Castiel rounded the back and climbed up onto the tailgate, grass clinging to his bare toes as he reached down for Dean. Dean expected to get a hand up, but Castiel insisted on having both his hands and the gasp that tore from Dean’s throat as Castiel lifted him bodily up and onto the tailgate like he was nothing would have incinerated the panties right off Dean’s body if he’d been wearing any. 

Castiel pulled Dean close, large hands moving around his small waist, and brushed their noses together before kissing him deeply. Dean fought the urge to cling to him, heart thudding hard under his breasts, allowing his own hands to slide down Cas’ chest, fingertips slipping under the hem of his t-shirt. Dean held his breath, feeling Castiel’s fingers come between them to work at the knot at his waist. Dean pulled out of the kiss to watch Castiel’s face as he parted the robe and found nothing underneath.

“Oh, Dean…” Castiel’s voice lower than Dean had ever heard it, a thin shiver of want trembling over Dean’s skin. Warm hands moved around Dean’s waist, fingertips trailing up his sides, skirting his breasts as Castiel moved to slip the fabric off Dean’s shoulders. It slid off the tailgate, and Dean, while aware that he was now naked for anyone to see, felt the look of unbridled want on Castiel’s face was worth every indecent exposure citation anyone could write. 

Castiel’s forehead rested against his, his hands moving to rest on Dean’s rib cage, thumbs brushing the underside of Dean’s breasts, and he didn’t think his nipples could harden any more, but they were almost painful now. Castiel kissed him breathless, lips hungry, tongue demanding as his hands moved slowly, skimming down Dean’s sides, thumbs dragging down his abdomen to press into his hipbones when Castiel’s hands reached his hips.

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean’s head tipped back, exposing his throat and Castiel got to work, biting and sucking at his skin, laving his collarbone and throat with sharp kisses. “I need... I need you to touch me.”

“I am,” Castiel’s voice made Dean shiver, another trickle of want dripping down his thigh, and indeed, Cas’ hands were smoothing wide and warm around his rib cage and to his shoulder blades.

Dean huffed. “Never pegged you for a tease.” 

“I always knew you’d be impatient.” Castiel’s lips slid across Dean’s shoulder, and as he moved lower, Dean’s fingers threaded back into his hair, guiding Castiel’s mouth where he was aching for it. 

“Fuck!” Dean’s sharp cry echoed in the night as Castiel took one nipple between his teeth, biting gently before breathing hotly against it, the nub tightening painfully before Cas began to flick it with his tongue. Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head, the sensation pulling tight between his legs as if there were a string directly connecting the two. 

Dean’s free hand, the one not tugging at Castiel’s hair, grasped his other breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers, and he had to pull his bottom lip between his teeth to stop from crying out again. Castiel’s hand smoothed over Dean’s, gathering it and pressing soft kisses to the pads of his fingers before pushing it aside to bite at the nipple. Cas’ hand moved to Dean’s other breast, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the erect, slick peak. 

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean whimpered, both hands clawing through Castiel’s hair. “ _ Fuck _ .”

Dean’s breath hitched as he felt Castiel shift, his lips dragging to the center of Dean’s chest before moving down. Cas was lowering himself down to the mattress, pulling Dean down with him, and when Dean landed, his knees planted on either side of Castiel’s ribs. Strong hands moved up Dean’s thighs and over his hips, the heat sinking into Dean’s skin like a drug. Castiel was urging him forward, pulling them both up the mattress, and even when they were in the middle, Castiel still wanted him to move higher.

“Cas… uh… I don’t…” Dean stuttered when he was all but straddling Castiel’s neck. Castiel merely looked up at him, hands smoothing around over Dean’s ass before he wiggled out of sight.

The feeling of Castiel’s tongue reaching between his slick folds had Dean scrambling for something to hold on to, one hand thumping onto the roof of the cab. His other grabbed for Castiel’s hand that had begun a soft caress on the outside of Dean’s thigh. Dean looked down, Cas’ tuft of dark hair between his thighs, eyes closed as if he were enjoying something particularly wonderful, and Dean finally gave in, body curling forward as Castiel’s arms wrapped completely around his thighs. 

Dean couldn’t hold back the sounds that erupted from him, both hands now planted on the roof of the truck, thighs trembling on either side of Castiel’s head. Dean had to be pouring into Castiel’s mouth at that point, the heat of the man’s tongue moving around his most sensitive flesh, dipping into his center before moving to roll his tongue against Dean’s clit. 

“Oh, shit. Fuck. Cas. Cas!  _ Cas!”  _ Dean could feel the wave building, thighs threatening to shake him off, and Castiel just held on tighter, tongue whipping hotly against him, quicker now. Every once in a while, the scrape of teeth made Dean’s walls clench, begging for something to fill him. “Cas, please. I need… I  _ need _ …” His hand moved down to close over Castiel’s on his hip, squeezing Cas’ fist tight.

Dean let out an embarrassing squeal as he felt himself tip off-balance, but strong arms were around him, rolling him down against soft sheets, and when Castiel’s body slotted over his, he threw his head back and moaned, grabbing handfuls of Castiel’s ass to grind their hips together. The hard line of Castiel’s erection pressed to Dean’s center, and his back arched a wave of pleasure coursing through him that he knew was going to unravel him. 

“I need you inside me. Now.” Dean’s voice was a growl, hands coming to clasp at Castiel’s face to keep their mouths together. 

Castiel moaned, the vibration of his chest against Dean’s sensitive nipples, the scrape of Castiel’s t-shirt, overstimulating, made Dean shiver. 

“God, why are you still wearing clothes?” 

Dean’s hands were tearing at the hem of Cas’ t-shirt as Castiel reached over his head with one hand, his other supporting his weight over Dean as he tugged it over his head. Dean’s hands greedy for skin and heat slid down Cas’ chest, reaching for the waist of his sweatpants. Castiel froze over him when Dean’s hand delved in, finding nothing but naked skin underneath, and they both moaned. Dean’s hand slotted around Castiel’s shaft, giving him a squeeze that made the man on top of him whimper and curl in. Dean gave him a sure and steady stroke as his other hand pushed at the waistband, Cas scrambling to aid him. When Castiel kicked his pants from his ankles, Dean brought his knees up, heels planting on the mattress in invitation. 

Cas lifted to his knees, shuffling closer, and Dean felt his breathing shallow, his strokes becoming softer as Castiel brought a hand to his mouth, licking the pads of his fingers before reaching between Dean’s legs and prodding at his entrance. A rush of pleasure arched Dean’s back as Cas’ fingers moved up, rubbing slow, sure circles over his clit, and Dean  _ needed _ so desperately, the hand around Castiel trying to guide him forward to where Dean wanted him most.

“Easy,” Castiel’s voice was a low comfort as he came down to his elbows over Dean, their bellies pressing softly together, and Dean could feel him,  _ right there _ , hot and heavy, leaking against the place where his leg met his body. “Dean, look at me.”

Dean opened his eyes, and the only thing he could see was blue and stars, the deep sea of Castiel’s eyes, grace sparking behind them, and the velvety sky blanketed with pinpricks of light. One of Castiel’s hands threaded into the hair at the top of Dean’s head, his other moving between them, and Dean let out a high keening sound, eyes snapping shut as he felt the warm, fleshy tip move against him, probing before sliding home. 

Dean’s back arched, his head pressing back into Castiel’s hand as he was filled, every synapse sparking with pleasure, and if Cas would just move a little more, he would have it. Hell, if Cas just pressed a bit harder, Dean would have it. But Castiel was panting hard over him, soft sounds pulling from the base of his throat as he pressed his hips flush to Dean’s and tried very hard to stay still.

“Cas, move.” Dean whined, head thrashing while his hands moved to grip Castiel’s ass. “God, please move. I need it.” Dean’s head turned, sighing against Castiel’s ear and hearing the hitch of Cas’ breath from where Castiel’s face was buried in the mattress next to Dean’s head. “I wanna feel you.” Dean’s lips pressed to the searing hot skin of Castiel’s neck. “I’m so close already, fuck just you pushing inside I… I…” Dean’s breath hitched, biting his bottom lip brutally as his legs wrapped around Castiel’s waist, and that was it.

Castiel turned his head, capturing Dean’s mouth with his, lifting to his elbows. Dean locked his ankles at Castiel’s lower back as he began to pull out, and the sounds they both made when he rushed back in were carried away on the wind. Castiel’s elbows were on either side of Dean’s head, his hands folded above him, their foreheads pressed together. Dean’s hands aligned with Cas’ ribs, urging him forward as he began a gentle rhythm that set a fire in Dean’s belly.

“Oh, Cas,” Dean choked, head digging back into the mattress as Castiel’s fingers tangled in Dean’s hair, Dean trying to cant his hips higher. “I’m… I wanna come so bad.” 

A growl rumbled in Castiel’s chest, his lips closing over Dean’s as his hips began to move faster, harder, and Dean didn’t think he could arch anymore, but there it was, Castiel nudging at that spot inside him he was never able to find, the rhythm of it sending shockwaves over his skin. 

“DeanDeanDean,” Castiel whispered weakly, his face burying in Dean’s neck as Dean’s eyes opened wide, staying fixed on the sky and feeling the tidal wave building in his stomach, stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. 

Dean’s arms began to tighten around Cas, Cas’ thrusts becoming rough and erratic, and Dean didn’t think he could ratchet any tighter, mouth opening on a silent scream as it crested. Dean was suspended there at the peak for what felt like full minutes, pleasure pulsing from his center through his belly and out to his limbs before it finally crashed down on him. Dean’s eyes clamped shut, a choked sound issuing from his throat as every muscle in his body locked, and Castiel’s back arched, a feral shout issuing from his lungs as he threw his head back. Dean felt Castiel jerk inside him, spilling warm and wet into him in pulses that Dean could relish as his own pleasure continued to drown him. 

Dean gave a small cry as it crested again with Castiel’s gentle rocking against him, Dean’s inner walls clutching at his hardness. Cas let out a dry sob, the sensation too much. Still, he just pressed harder into Dean, grinding into that sweet spot until Dean couldn’t stop coming, one wave blending into the next until finally, it relented, Castiel growing soft enough to slip wetly from his body.

Dean’s body went limp without his permission, every muscle releasing, and he was nothing but a pile of limbs and panting breath under Castiel’s trembling weight. Dean nuzzled at his neck, trying to lift his arms to pull Cas down but only managed to get a hand on Castiel’s side, fingers swiping through the sweat there before Castiel rolled off him onto his hip, sprawling onto his back with a sigh. 

Dean knew he should probably close his legs, but higher brain function wasn’t happening at the moment. Thankfully Castiel’s brush of knuckles against the outside of Dean’s knee applied enough pressure to nudge them closed, Dean’s hips turning away as his legs folded on themselves. The stretch in his back was delicious as he turned his torso more towards Castiel, nosing at his shoulder and planting a soft kiss there.

Castiel’s small growl of appreciation was accompanied by a flurry of movement that made Dean’s head spin, the mattress squeaking under them as he was turned and bundled against sweat-slick skin, ankles tangling together. The scratch of Castiel’s stubble against Dean’s forehead was both irritating and welcomed, Castiel’s warm lips pressed against Dean’s skin as Dean pushed his naked chest into Castiel’s. 

They drifted between sleep and wakefulness, Dean’s fingertips playing over Castiel’s rapidly cooling skin, Cas’ dancing up and down Dean’s spine in a way that was both arousing and tender. Dean couldn’t believe it, but he was ready to go again. So ready. He let his hands slid down over Cas’ hips.

“Mmm. Ten more minutes.” 

Castiel buried his face in Dean’s hair, inhaling him and Dean chuckled, dragging a finger between Castiel’s hipbones to brush the soft hair at the base of his shaft. He stirred interestedly but also hissed. Dean retreated, resting his hand on Cas’ hip and nosed at his Adam’s apple, kissing it sweetly.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was high and sweet; the tone he loved to hear from whatever woman was in his arms. It indicated that she was high, blissed out, and satisfied, which Dean very much was.

“Yes, Dean.”

“I’m gonna wanna keep doing this even after I get my dick back.” A slow smile curled at Dean’s lips as he felt Castiel begin to grow against his thigh.

“Good.” 

Dean squealed as Castiel rolled roughly on top of him, kissing him hard, and Dean wrapped his arms around him, vowing never to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a whole scene with Dean getting a (female) high-class escort in Denver that went before this but after I wrote the entire fucking thing it felt overly indulgent and kind of unnecessary to get her/him in (truck)bed with Cas.
> 
> Still waffling about that decision actually so if you read this and feel like it was a bit of a leap I'm interested in hearing your thoughts on that in particular. Or if you just want to read a little Fem!Dean-on-Fem!Hooker action I guess that's good to know too haha.


	12. The Curse of Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean registers a complaint with Cas and Sam gets an eyeful.

“This is  _ your fault _ .”

“How do you figure?” Castiel’s hand smoothed the hair back from Dean’s forehead as Dean squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at his stomach. 

They were in Dean’s room; Dean curled against the many pillows piled against the headboard, blankets in disarray around him. Castiel, back from the kitchen with a fresh mug of tea, set the sandwich he’d made on the bedside table before he perched on the edge of the bed. His arm went around Dean’s shoulders, Dean pressing himself into the warmth of Cas’ side even though thirty seconds ago he’d kicked off all his blankets, feeling as if he were about to have a heat stroke. His pelvis  _ ached; _ it felt as if every molecule between his belly button and mid thighs, front to back, was aflame with discomfort. That was the worst part of it, Dean felt. There were moments of pain, real pain like he’d never experienced in his male body, but the overarching feeling was dull discomfort as if his abdomen was a crowded train car at rush hour, cramped and hot and miserable.

“You were there when God cursed Eve with… with… this!” Dean indicated his pooched belly. “You couldn’t have piped up? Something like ‘Hey Chuck, maybe give the dames a break?’”

“I’m afraid I missed that part of creation.” Castiel brought the cup of tea to Dean’s lips. “Sip this.”

“Nooooo,” Dean whined, pushing at Castiel’s hands. “I want a beer.”

Castiel pressed his lips together in displeasure, eyes a warning. “You need to stay hydrated.”

“Fine.” Dean took the mug and sipped at the tea. Mint with honey, and it wasn’t awful, but it also wasn’t alcohol. “Can I at least have a Twinkie?”

“After you eat some of your sandwich.”

“I  _ hate _ tuna salad.”

Castiel fought a smile. “You  _ made _ this for yourself, Dean.”

“Yeah, well that was PMS-me, and this is full-on-Shark-Week-me, and I  _ hate _ tuna salad and  _ want _ a goddamn Twinkie.” 

Castiel sighed. “Eat half; then you can have a Twinkie.”

“You’re an asshole; you know that?”

“So you’ve reminded me often over the last twenty-four hours.”

Sam appeared in the doorway, hair piled high on her head in jogging shorts and a tee. “How’s it going in here?”

“Fucking awful,” Dean snapped at the same time Castiel said, “As well as can be expected.” Dean glared up at Castiel, and the angel looked down at him with a small smile. Dean turned his sour face back to his sister.

“What the fuck are  _ you _ doing?”

Sam gave a shrug, jamming in an earbud. “Figured I’d go for a run.”

Dean wrestled a pillow out from under his head and chucked it as hard as he could at Sam, who watched it thump pathetically on the floor a good two feet in front of her. 

Sam grinned, eyes lighting on Castiel. “I really should feel bad that seeing her like this gives me so much satisfaction.” Dean struggled for another pillow, Sam’s bright burst of laughter echoing down the hall as she disappeared from the doorway with a cheeky, “Feel better, sis!”

“Fuck her,” Dean grumbled, flopping back and curling his arms around the pillow as a particularly nasty cramp twisted inside him. “Fuck her and her ponytail.”

Castiel took the pillow and stuffed it behind Dean’s head before he laid a warm hand on Dean’s lower belly. Cas nearly lost the limb until Dean felt the warmth of his skin sink in, the cramping dying down for a second. Dean sighed. 

“I hate this,” Dean whined, and he felt Castiel shift on the bed, pressing his face to the top of Dean’s head and breathing in deep, arm tightening around Dean’s shoulder.

“I know. Me too.” Castiel’s lips puckered against his scalp, and Dean huffed.

“There’s only five days left. Of the spell.” Dean reached up and found Castiel’s bicep knuckles rubbing back and forth. “I don’t wanna spend ‘em like this.” Dean winced hard as his abdomen convulsed, and he groaned.

He felt Castiel smile against his hair. “How do you want to spend them.”

Dean glared up at him. “Not. Like. This.”

Castiel sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to hide his laugh. “Understood. Sam enjoyed baths when she was hurting. I could draw you one.”

Dean groaned. “Ugh, and sit in my own blood puddle no thank you.”

“A shower then?”

Dean narrowed his eyes up at Castiel. “Are you trying to get me naked?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Uh… no?”

Dean frowned. “Why not?”

Castiel blinked. “I’m… not sure how I should answer.”

Dean took in Cas’ pained expression and had the sudden urge to throttle him but also to apologize for being such a bitch. He let his head fall back against Castiel’s arm and struggled to tame every wild and unfounded feeling that was churning tumultuously inside him but it was just  _ so much _ . How was it possible to feel so many things all at the same time? 

“How is it possible to feel so many things at the same time?” Dean glanced up at Cas, and the angel’s eyebrows rose again.

“I asked myself that question a lot when I was human.”

“Yeah, well, try being a human  _ girl _ , dude. I am a master at stuffing everything in the old feelings box and ignoring it, but it’s fucking  _ impossible _ right now.” Dean rubbed his face hard and winced as a sharp cramp felt like it was trying to pull his vagina further into his body, which didn’t even  _ make sense _ . 

Castiel’s hand moved as if he knew, palm resting over the spot and Dean’s eyes closed, head lolling into Castiel’s neck, nuzzling at his pulse point. “Cas…”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Sorry I was a bitch.”

“I wasn’t offended.”

“I feel bad about it, though.” Dean’s head rolled on Cas’ shoulder, looking down at where his knuckles were rubbing against the top of Cas’ thigh, his sleep pants soft over the clenched muscle of his thigh. Dean let his knuckles shift up a little higher.

“You’re forgiven.” Castiel took Dean’s hand and threaded their fingers together, trapping Dean’s underneath his so that it rested in the neutral territory around the middle of Cas’ thigh. 

Dean’s hand twitched in Cas’ and shifted on the bed, mind wandering to the last time Cas had tangled their fingers together like this. It’d been two nights ago, the full weight of Castiel’s body pressing Dean down into the mattress as his hips ground hard into Dean. Dean could only arch his back and cry out, hands trapped over his head pressed palm to palm with Cas’. An oncoming cramp melted into a twinge of want, and Dean felt his nipples tighten under the soft cotton of his sleep shirt. He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if the bullshit he used to spout at Lisa was actually true.

“You know I read in Cosmo once that sex helps with period cramps.” Dean tried to keep his voice light, chin tipping up to look at Castiel’s face.

Cas’ gave a deep nod, eyes focused on the middle distance. “Endorphin release as a natural pain remedy. Yes.”

“Sooooo…” 

Castiel blinked down at him. “So?”

“Think I’ll take that shower now…”

Cas merely nodded and began to detangle himself from Dean, slipping off the edge of the bed to allow Dean to climb out as well. Dean winced when his bare toes hit the concrete and what felt like half his blood volume leaked out of his body, caught in the gauze between his legs. Dean shuffled towards the door and glanced over his shoulder, finding Castiel gathering up his mug and abandoned sandwich.

“Cas.” Dean chuckled a bit as he watched Cas lift his head, eyebrows raising in question. “Would you like to join me?” 

The items in Castiel’s hands were immediately discarded on the desk. “Of course, Dean.”

#

Dean now understood why women didn’t balk at shower sex. As a guy, it was a logistical nightmare, balancing body weight, angle, slip-resistance, and rhythm to get them both off before the hot water ran out. But from where he was now, pinned against the cool tile wall by Castiel’s slick, hard body as warm water rained down on them well, he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. 

Dean pressed his face hard into Castiel’s shoulder, thighs tensing against Cas’ sides, shivering at the feel of Cas’ large hands gripping his ass, holding him in place as he worked Dean over. Sex had never been this good, no contest, and as his orgasm built, nails sinking in to leave half-moons in Castiel’s shoulder blades, somewhere in the back of his head, a voice reminded him that this was all going to be over soon. 

“Oh _ , Jesus _ , guys!” 

Dean opened his eyes, blinking over Castiel’s shoulder and finding Sam in her sports bra and running shorts looking disgusted. To his credit, Cas’ rhythm barely stuttered, head turning to gauge Dean’s reaction. Sam was already struggling to exit, towel in from of her face to avoid seeing anything else.

Dean opened his mouth to taunt her, but Castiel’s soft grunt as he shifted Dean higher punched the air from his lungs, gravity pulling him down onto Cas’ dick harder, and his orgasm hit him with no warning. He barely registered his voice echoing off the tiles, toes curling tightly as his knees hugged Castiel’s ribs, hips undulating as much as they could in Cas’ firm grip. 

A wave of uncomfortable cramps followed the deep pleasure as Cas found his orgasm, and Dean clutched at him hard, concentrating on Cas’ weak whimpers against his ear until it subsided. Cas’ breath was panting down his cheek, arms and legs trembling under their combined weight, and Dean wanted to be selfish, wanted to cling to Cas and make him hold him there as the spray started to cool.

“S’okay, Cas.” Dean let his hands run down Castiel’s biceps, loosening the grip of his thighs, but Castiel was still glacially slow in letting Dean’s legs slide down so he could get his feet under him. 

A noise that made Dean giggle was followed immediately by a feeling that made Dean gasp and look down between them where a large splotch of red mixed with white had fallen from his body. The mess was immediately pulled towards the drain, where it disappeared, and Dean turned his head away to gag. Castiel’s hand patted between his shoulder blades sympathetically. Dean tried not to look down as Castiel pulled them under the spray, the water running pink down their legs. Cas grabbed the bar of soap that was his, some motel special that smelled crisp and clean, all business which was very Cas. He cleaned them both, Dean only yelping when Cas slipped a hand between his legs, running a finger over his folds in a way that was intimate but not sexual. Dean couldn’t even protest because the chaste kiss Cas dropped on his lips stole the words from his brain and replaced them with butterflies in his stomach as Cas bent over to turn off the water. 

“I need to grab some clothes from my room. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re dressed, and we can discuss terms regarding your Twinkie-Beer request.”

Dean couldn’t fight the smile on his face when he met Cas’ eyes and found them playful, though his face was stoic as ever. “I just gave you some pretty great sex, so I’m expecting my request to be granted.”

Castiel’s lips twitched, but he managed to smother his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed I lopped off a chapter in the story info. That was just a miscalculation on my part. Only TWO parts left.
> 
> I definitely did not plan on this story turning into a 14 chapter behemoth but here we are. Thanks to everyone who's sticking with me and reviewing. I see them all and they always make my whole day. I'll get around to replying to them all I promise!


	13. The Boys Are Back In Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean's 31 day trial as females is over. Dean and Cas try to reconnect.

Dean tried to ignore the irritating tap of Sam's foot as they sat in the library, pretending to research. Rowena was due any moment now, the clock nearly up on the spell, and Dean found himself wondering what it would cost him to buy more time. Dean felt ridiculous. He  _ hated _ being a girl. Bras were horribly uncomfortable. He wasn't tall enough to reach his hidden snack shelf in the kitchen. Stuff that  _ was not _ heavy, like ten bags of groceries or an 80-pound pre-teen, made his muscles tremble with strain. Men, who could only be called that based on what they had going on between their legs, thought he was fragile and ignorant. Worst of all, no one found him remotely intimidating or scary, even when he dropped all the acts and turned his rage on full blast.

And yet…

Castiel's face scrunched into a gummy smile floated across his mind, and his attention trundled after it like a lovesick puppy. Dean liked how Cas' hands felt large and strong on his hips. He liked tipping his face up for a kiss and letting Cas manhandle him into whatever position the angel wanted. Dean liked the feeling of absolute surrender when Castiel's lithe frame pinned him to the wall or the mattress, lips demanding his compliance and his pleasure. 

"Dean, your face is gonna get stuck that way."

Dean hadn't realized his brooding had been playing so plainly across his features but leave it to his sister to call him out on it.

"Shut up, Sam."

"What are you so grumpy about?" Sam's light laugh made Dean want to slap her. 

"'m-not grumpy." 

"Uh, yeah, you are. There's practically a black cloud hanging over your head. I figured after the last few days you'd be jumping for joy about getting your dick back."

Dean blinked at her. "Why?"

Sam let her head fall to the side in an unamused stare, her forearm flopping down onto the book in front of her. "You're telling me that going through a menstrual cycle wasn't the worst five to seven days of your life?"

Dean gave a half-hearted shrug. "Only lasted three, actually."

The screech of Sam's chair as she pushed herself back from the table hurt Dean's ears. " _ What _ ? No  _ fair! _ I'm giving Rowena a piece of my mi-"

"I don't think it was the spell I think it was-"Dean cut himself off, and Sam narrowed her eyes. "Never mind. You don't think you'll miss it? Being a girl?"

Sam's eyes became so wide; Dean was half worried his eyeballs were going to fall out of their sockets. "Um.  _ No _ . Like, not  _ at all _ ." Sam's eyes narrowed. "Why? Do  _ you? _ "

Dean shifted in his seat, pencil tapping against the table. "I mean, the multiple orgasms were pretty great…"

"Wait a minute…" Sam held up a hand, and Dean cursed inwardly. He should have just kept his mouth shut. "You… are you… no. No, man. No way." Sam shook her head, lips mashed together in a dubious frown as she tossed her pen onto the book that was open in front of her. "No  _ way _ you're considering staying a girl. No way. There's  _ no way. _ " Sam shrugged as if to say, "that's that," but whatever expression Dean had on his face seemed to deflate her. "Dear god Dean you aren't  _ actually _ considering it."

"I'm allowed to consider it!" Dean snapped back defensively. "It's just an idea. Of course, I'm not gonna stay a girl…"  _ Right _ ?

Sam heaved a sigh. "Dude… please…  _ please _ do  _ not _ tell me that this is because of you and Cas."

"Of course, it's not about me and Cas." Dean rolled his eyes for extra emphasis, but Sam just threw her hands in the air and sighed.

"Dean. There is  _ nothing. wrong.  _ with continuing whatever is going on with you and Cas when you're a guy again."

"I  _ know _ , Samantha!" Dean's voice was shrill, and they both winced. 

"Do you? I mean, truly, Dean. We're guys. Like I see how uncomfortable you are in that body. It's not who we are." Sam scoffed and shook her head. "And Cas doesn't care! He loves  _ you _ , Dean. Not your meat suit-"

" _ Whoa!" _ Dean's voice screeched in the empty library, hands flying up as he speared Sam with a stern look. "Watch it, it's not like that, okay. We've been straight fucking, and that's-  _ what are you-  _ why did you put your head down? _ Stop laughing! _ "

Sam's forehead rested on her open book, low giggles emitting from her lips, and Dean scowled at her until she pulled it together, lifting her head and brushing her hair from her face. "Dean. You're both ass over teakettle in love with each other. It's been obvious since you gave him your amulet so he could go find God." Sam snorted. "Before that, probably. But that's when I finally wised up."

"That was  _ ten years ago _ !"

Sam rolled her eyes before she stared at Dean pointedly. " _ I. know. _ "

Dean chuffed and waved at hand at her. "Whatever. We are not."

"Are too."

Dean glared at Sam. "Really?" He huffed, flipping a page in his book angrily before muttering. "Are not."

"Are too."

"Oh, it's nice to see that though the package has changed, you two are still the same old Winchesters."

Both jumped to their feet, startled by Rowena's sudden presence at the top of the steps. She was smug and smiling in a purple sequin evening gown, her red hair flowing over her shoulders in soft curls. Dean tried to get a look at her shoes, but she was moving down the steps now, and he forced himself not to care. It wasn't like he'd have need for a good pair of heels after the next ten minutes or so. 

"Well, I'll say I'm not that surprised you two were stubborn enough to stick it out as ladies." Rowena crossed her arms over her chest as she came to a stop at the top of the steps leading into the library from the map room. Sam and Dean shared a look before they shuffled to stand shoulder to shoulder at the end of the table, looking up at Rowena.

"Yeah, yeah, well, you owe us a favor. Deal's a deal. Now let's get this over with." Dean gestured between the witch and himself and his sister-soon-to-be-brother-once-more.

Rowena glanced around, ignoring him. "Where's our fine feathered friend?"

"None of your business," Dean said as Sam replied, "Dean sent him to pick up a carburetor in Smith City."

Dean glared at Sam. "It doesn't matter where he is. Let's go." Dean gestured to himself and refused to let himself think of what he was giving up.

"You know, it would be relatively easy to extend the spell…"

"No." Sam's voice was firm, as Dean said, "Really?"

Sam glared at Dean before rolling her eyes. "Fine, maybe Dean can get a few more days. I want my body back. Now."

Rowena clicked her tongue as she shook her head slowly. "'m afraid it's an all-or-nothing deal, boys. An addendum to the magical contract does not allow for invested parties to be dropped at any time."

Dean shifted from one foot to the other before he dared look at Sam. She was fully facing him now, her arms crossed tightly over her chest with her bitchiest of bitchfaces deployed. Dean felt a shiver of fear run through him. Usually, when a woman looked at him like that, he was about to get slapped or a drink thrown in his face. Dean sighed and looked back to Rowena.

"Deal's a deal, Rowena. 31 days are up- "Dean checked his watch, which had slipped around his wrist to the inside, so he had to hastily right it. "-actually  _ were _ up a minute and a half ago. Quit stalling."

Rowena huffed a sigh. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Rowena held out her hands, waggling her fingers at Dean and Sam, who shared a look before each taking one. Rowena closed her eyes, and Dean felt a thrill of nervousness flood through his veins.

It was silent a beat before, "Are you  _ sure _ you don't want to wait for Castiel to be here? Perhaps he-" She cut herself off with a shrill yelp as Dean used his free hand to slip his gun from the waistband of his jeans, shaking it a little to get his shirtsleeve back from where it had engulfed his hand. The sound of the hammer locking into place was loud in the near-silent room.

"I won't tell you again."

Rowena released both their hands, showing them her palms. "Okay. Okay!" She rolled her shoulders as Dean stowed his weapon again, and they each took one of her hands.

Rowena began to chant, voice guttural over the ancient words of a language long dead. Dean closed his eyes as light began to emanate from where her hands were clasped around his and Sam's. A rush of wind, loud enough to block out the sound of her voice whipped around them, Dean's hair slapping across his face and lashing at the back of his neck. It died down, and Sam's hiss beside him made him open his eyes.

His brother was… his brother again. Tall and long-haired and strong in clothes that were a moment ago too big and now fit snuggly to his male form. His face was twisted in a wince as he looked down at himself and shifted foot to foot. Rowena was holding back a grin.

"Something wrong, Samuel?"

"Just…" Sam winced, reaching between his legs and adjusting himself. "Remembered to wear my old clothes. Didn't think about the underwear…"

Dean burst out laughing, vowing never to let his brother live down admitting to wearing women's underwear but it cut off immediately hearing the deep throaty sound. That was  _ his _ laugh! He looked down at himself, hand lifting unnecessarily to keep the hair from falling in his eyes. He was himself again, broad-shouldered and bow-legged, though his bare toes were still painted aqua. Dean reached tentatively between his legs, and the feeling of relief at the familiar weight of his package under his hand nearly brought him to his knees. 

The sound of the bunker door creaking open made everyone look up, Rowena craning her neck to see behind her, and Castiel was stepping in, eyes down as he stepped over the threshold. 

"I left the carburetor in the gara-"

His voice cut off when he took in the scene in front of him, both Winchesters back to their original form, a Cheshire grin pulling across Rowena's face before she turned to look at the boys again. Dean wasn't looking at him; instead, his eyes were cast to the floor, his fingers tugging at the shell of his ear. Sam gave Castiel a sympathetic smile, though it seemed a little strained as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Hey, Cas." Sam gave a short wave before he glanced at Dean and his hands fell to his sides, face shifting to extreme exasperation as he sighed. "Rowena was  _ just leaving _ ." Sam shuffled forward, shooing the witch with his hands, and Castiel watched her roll her eyes once she was turned to face him.

"You're  _ welcome _ , Samuel. No need to thank me so profusely."

"Yeah, we'll be in touch about that deal." Sam crossed his arms over his chest and leered as Rowena daintily climbed the steps, sidling up to Castiel.

"You know if  _ you _ ever want to take a spin as a lady, well I bet you would be just love-"

" _ Goodbye, Rowena _ ." Dean's voice was sharp as a slap, and Dean couldn't help the giddy feeling he got from Rowena jumping, the look of fear flitting across her face before she forced it into a scowl.

Castiel held the door open for her as she rounded him to leave, receiving a prim smile in return, and then Rowena was gone. The sound of the metal door latching shut made Dean wince, and he dropped his gaze to the floor again before Castiel could get completely turned around. Both men clearly heard Sam's deep sigh. 

"I'm gonna go change." Dean glanced up, snorting at Sam's awkward gait as he waddled off towards the dorms. Sam shot a glare over his shoulder. "Let you guys _ talk _ ."

Dean's mouth popped open, outraged, but his face shifted to a blank mask when he caught sight of Cas coming down the stairs, his shoulders slumping with a heavy sigh. Dean's eyes cut back to where Sam had just disappeared through the doorway, hoping that he was well out of earshot by the time Castiel made his way over. 

Dean swallowed hard when Cas stopped directly in front of him, eyes lifted to meet Dean's this time, and it was strange now, seeing him from this angle and feeling warmth pool between his legs instead of deep in his gut. He shifted from foot to foot, panic tightening in his chest as he felt the telltale swoon of his blood running south, so different from the trickle of want that would smear his thighs when standing this close to Cas.

"Dean…" Castiel's deep voice made Dean's eyes fall shut, gritting his teeth against the swell in his jeans and fighting the urge to push his palm against it.

"'ey Cas." Dean cleared his throat and tried again. "H-hey Cas." Dean's lips moved to smile, but by Castiel's measured breath, he knew it came off as more of a grimace.

They stood there in silence, neither knowing what to say. Dean wanted Castiel to reach out, grab him by the waist and smother him in a bear hug while Dean played at struggling but really only so he could rub his body against Cas' until the angel  _ really _ decided to hold him still. Dean wanted him to kiss his neck, his chest, the inside of his thigh, but when he looked down and saw the flat plain that ran from collarbone to his belt where his half-hard dick was making a bulge in his jeans, the desire soured to shame.

Dean was focused so hard on trying to untangle the juxtaposing thoughts that he didn't see Castiel reach for his face, so the rasp of the angel's fingertips against Dean's stubble made him jerk back hard, hands beginning to lift. Dean wasn't sure if it was to ward off or pull in, but Cas drew back immediately, showing his palms. Dean swallowed hard again, feeling his Adam's apple bob, and  _ god _ , he thought his feelings for Cas were complicated as a  _ girl _ . Now, home in his own body, he felt a distinct hatred for this form though it differed from how he felt as a woman. The utter  _ wrongness _ of that body had continuously been at the forefront except for when Cas was on him or in him or both. He'd been frustrated by it and had moments of mourning so severe it would steal his breath, but he never hated that body; it just wasn't his. Now he was frustrated by the fact that he felt one with his body in a way he'd never appreciated before but now didn't seem to know what to do with it.

"You're going through a lot," Castiel said finally, and Dean looked up in time to see him square his shoulders, that hard stare settled over his features, the one Dean hadn't seen from him in well over a decade. "I'll lea-"

"No!" 

Dean's hand shot out, wrapping tight around Castiel's wrist, and he felt the bones flex under his grip. Castiel's cheek twitched, and Dean let go immediately, the urge to cup Cas' face and step in close nearly overwhelmed him into action. He caught himself before his hands got up past Castiel's shoulders and froze there, one step too close with hands hovering near Cas' biceps.

"Dean..."

"Let's… let's just go to my room." Dean glanced around, knowing Sam was going to lock himself in his room for the rest of the evening. He snorted, looking up to Cas about to crack a joke about Sam jerking off the first chance he got, but it died in his throat at Castiel's curious squint. "…er… or we could stay here. I guess."

Castiel's eyebrows rose, and his face wiped clean of expression, blinking before he stepped aside and dropped his eyes to the floor, gesturing Dean to lead the way. Dean sucked in a breath and walked forward on unsteady legs, trying to get used to the difference in his weight distribution while wondering if Cas was staring at his ass. His head was half-turned to check before that panic flooded back in, punching him hard in the sternum, and he took a shuddering breath, looking resolutely forward again.

Dean's door was slightly ajar, and he moved to slip through it, shoulder catching on the doorframe. He's broader than he used to be, and he rubbed the cap of his shoulder irritatedly as he shuffled to the center of the room. All of his girl clothes were still strewn about the space, makeup on his desk, hair ties fucking  _ everywhere _ . Dean whirled at the sound of the door closing behind him and found Castiel looking at him cautiously, his hand still on the doorknob. Dean swallowed hard.

"I can leave it open…" Castiel's voice was cautious, hand twisting to pull it open again. Dean shook his head. 

"No, no. Closed is fine. Uh…" His voice died in his throat as Castiel stepped forward, shoulders and spine straightening. Dean felt frozen in place, watching the sinuous movement of Castiel's body while Cas' eyes stayed on Dean's face. 

Dean tried to remind himself that they had done this at least a dozen times over the past several weeks. He knew the taste of Castiel's mouth and skin and…  _ other things _ . Dean swallowed hard, fighting a blush as Castiel stepped into his personal space, one hand coming up to brush his cheek. The scratch of his stubble against Cas' fingertips seemed loud in the silent room, and the unexpected friction where there'd been none before made his shoulders tense even more than they already were.

Castiel's eyes were searching Dean's, soft but steady, and usually, they were kissing dopey smiles off each other's faces by now. This was ridiculous. Dean set his jaw tight, huffing air through his nose as he gave a quick nod that made Castiel's brow crease, but before he could go full head tilt, Dean had grabbed his face and smashed their mouths together. 

Dean's heart was slamming hard against his ribcage, fighting the hitch of his breath as he focused completely on the taste of Cas, how his mouth opened even without Dean's tongue trying to coax its way inside. Dean didn't take the invitation, a pulse of anxiety, making him pull back for a second to breathe. 

Castiel's pupils are blown wide, breath panting against Dean's lips, and Dean still had a hold of his head, keeping him from leaning in on his own. Dean should dive back in, get this show on the road, but even he couldn't convince himself that the tight coil in his stomach was want and not fear. This was wrong. It felt wrong. It hadn't felt like this before. Before, it was as easy as sinking into a warm bath after a long day, and Dean ached for that again. 

Cas reached up to hold Dean's wrists, thumb pressing gently to his racing pulse, and tentatively stepped closer, one foot slotting between both of Dean's as he pressed a solid kiss to Dean's lips. 

That was definitely Cas' erection pressing against Dean's hip. 

Dean panicked, letting out a high yelp as he stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance when he hit the end of the bed. Castiel's eyes were wide, standing stock still with his palms up. Dean swallowed hard on a dry throat, eyes darting around the room, trying to ease the dizziness. He needed to get his breathing under control, or he was going to hyperventilate.

"Dean…"

"Sorry," Dean reached up to rub a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, I'm just… it's a little… um…"

"We don't have to do this, Dean." Castiel's voice held an edge of pity that caused white-hot anger to pulse through Dean, and he grit his teeth.

"No, I said I still wanted to do these even when I got my dick back, and I meant it, goddammit. Just give me a minute." Dean pumped one hand at him while the other reached up to rub his forehead hard. He could do this.

"Dean." Castiel's voice was a warning.

"It's just weird, okay." Dean threw his hands in the air and let them flop to his side. "It's weird. I'm sorry. I want… I want…" Dean growled, not even knowing how he'd planned on finishing that sentence. 

"Why don't we just take things slow." 

It wasn't a question. Dean eyed Castiel's hand as he held it up and slowly stepped forward. Dean offered his own hand, and Castiel took it gently, curled his fingers under Dean's to examine his nails. They were overly long, a chip of glitter polish clinging to the sides of his thumbnail where he wasn't able to get it all off. 

"I care for you very much. You know that."

Dean dropped his eyes even farther to avoid the angel's gaze but nodded his head. He felt Castiel's hand on his cheek again and closed his eyes, remembering that touch and how it had made his stomach bottom out. Cas was so tender with him, and it wasn't like all the girls he'd been with hand manhandled him, but with Cas, it was different. There was obvious strength in Castiel, and Dean knew the angel could snap his neck with a twitch of his wrist, but instead, his touch was reverent as if the very thought of causing Dean harm was the worst kind of sin. 

"Is it okay if I kiss you?"

Dean nodded, still looking at his aqua toes nearly touching the tip of Cas' loafers. He forced himself to swallow down the anxiety and rallied his voice. "I want you to. I… I like it."

He  _ did _ like it. He hadn't been able to stop from kissing Cas as little as four hours ago. He had to pull himself together. Dean cleared his throat, feeling as if his ears were going to burn off but reached for Castiel's hips anyway. 

Cas moved forward, eager hands sliding around Dean's waist, eyes steady on Dean's. They inched closer, agonizingly slow, and Dean had half a mind to grab Cas by the face again but forced himself to follow the angel's lead. When they were mere centimeters apart, warm breath gusting against each other's lips, noses brushing, Dean's insides began to tremble, and he had to close his eyes, the intimacy too much. 

With his eyes closed, Cas' lips touching his came as a surprise, the gentle pressure barely there, and Dean found himself pressing forward to get more. Castiel kissed him slow and chaste, driving Dean to such frustration that he was the one to swipe his tongue against the seam of Cas' lips. Cas opened for him but didn't wait for Dean to move forward, sliding his tongue against Dean's the way he'd done when he'd been pushing inside him  _ other _ places. The throb of heat that coiled in his balls startled a moan out of him, and Castiel pressed harder, tongue licking its way into Dean's mouth more thoroughly as his hands slid down to slip under the hem of Dean's t-shirt. Dean loved Cas' hands, elegant and nimble fingers skating over skin in barely there touches that drove him insane. Maybe this was the trick to getting through this, eyes closed and touch focused. Just until he got used to it being this way.

Cas was nibbling his way over his jaw again, hands slipping back to his waist, and when he reached between them to cup Dean between his legs, Dean's eyes flew open, hands planting on Castiel's chest and shoving hard enough to send a mortal man pinwheeling backward. As it was, Cas merely leaned back to look at Dean's face and what he saw there had him releasing Dean immediately and putting a good three feet of space between them.

"We're not doing this." Castiel's voice was firm despite the wild lust in his eyes and the prominent bulge in his slacks. 

Dean felt a surge of guilt and stepped towards him, trying to coax him back into an embrace. "No, really, I'm fine. I'm sorry. I just… panicked for a second. I'm good. Really." Dean nodded emphatically, but Castiel held him at arm's length.

"You're not fine, Dean. This clearly repulses you." Castiel shook his head, looking away, and Dean reached to cup his face again.

"No. That is  _ not _ it. You… I… we're… I mean…" Dean's face crumpled as if in pain, and he was mortified even thinking it, but he  _ had _ to say it. "We're… it's  _ us _ , Cas." Dean's voice was feeble, but he tried to convey everything through the look he was giving Castiel, trying to channel every confusing and wonderful feeling he had for the angel into it. "we… I mean, you… you… It's like with Sam, but  _ not, _ you know? Like you're… you're just as…" Dean swallowed hard. "Important. To me. To both of us, but, you know, to  _ me." _ Dean huffed a defeated sigh. "You know what I'm trying to say."

A small smile graced Castiel's lips. "Yes, I believe I do."

Dean's shoulders sagged in relief. "Good." He let his head fall forward, one hand reaching out to squeeze Cas' shoulder hard. "Good." Dean sucked in a huge breath then let it out before giving Castiel a feeble smile. "Okay, let's do this." 

Dean moved forward, but Castiel's hand on his chest stopped him, his other lifting to also halt the protest that was about to leave Dean's lips. Castiel fixed a steady gaze on Dean's, and Dean swallowed hard.

"You need time."

"No, I-"Dean silenced immediately at the soft press of Castiel's fingertips to his lips.

"You need time." Castiel dipped his head in a nod, eyes holding Dean's emphatically, and Dean felt his shoulders sag again as he lowered his eyes in shame. "I'm not hurt or mad, Dean. I want this with you, and I can see you want it as well, but you can't force it. I won't let you."

"But it's  _ stupid _ !" Dean burst out finally. "We've already  _ done it _ . I can still smell it on the fucking sheets!" Dean flicked an irritated hand at the bed behind him, and Castiel had to bite his lip on a smile.

"Yes, well, be that as it may," Castiel cleared his throat, and Dean felt a grin trying to stretch across his face. "It's okay to take the time to get to know each other again."

"Cas, you've been my best friend for over ten years. Only Sam knows me better than you."

"Get to know each other with you in  _ this _ body."

Dean squinted. "You built this body, Cas. Cell by cell. You've told me a million times."

Castiel's warm smile was infuriatingly patient. "Which is why I can wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I lied there might actually be fifteen chapters now 🤦♀️
> 
> I have to finish my DWBB fic so this one is going in a drawer for the weekend but I should know after I start working on the next chapter.


	14. Awkward Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions continue to run high between Cas and Dean. Sam tries to help with varying results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me HARD.
> 
> BUT I did get an entire sexy time-stamp when I decided it didn't work within the current arc so THAT will be coming along with the final chapter hopefully before the new year.

“Okay, what the hell is going on between you and Cas?” Sam asked one morning after Castiel slunk out of the kitchen with his cup of coffee, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Dean grumbled blearily into his own mug and ignored Sam’s scoff. He only had so much bandwidth for bullshit before his first cup of coffee.

“You two are tiptoeing around like the other is a bomb about to go off.”

“Yeah, well…” was Dean’s eloquent reply.

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered before turning fully towards his brother and planting a strained smile on his face. “Have you two talked about it?”

“About what?”

“The tension between you?”

“Oh yeah!” Dean lifted his eyebrows. “Right after we stopped at Hobby Lobby for some mod podge but before we hit Starbucks. Fuck you, Sam.”

“It’s not going to get better if-“

“ _I know that, okay?_ ” Dean’s voice boomed in the kitchen, but to Sam’s surprise, it wasn’t anger lacing his words. It was agony. “You don’t think I know that I fucked up one of the only good things I had going? I’m _trying_. We’re both _trying_. I’m sorry it’s not moving fast enough for you.”

Dean snatched his mug off the table and stomped over to the sink, dumping the contents and letting it fall to the bottom with a clatter. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Dean-“

“Fuck off, Sammy.”

Dean trudged down the hallway, slippers scuffing on the concrete floor, the hem of his robe shifting against his calves, and he had to quash the feeling that he needed to shave. He reached up to scratch at his face, the ginger hair of his beard coarse under his fingers. 

“Is everything all right?” 

Dean looked up to find Castiel’s face peeking out of his own room, and Dean started to fight the smile that wanted to pull across his face but eventually let it go. It must have made for a weird expression because Cas’ brow furrowed. Dean shook his head, shuffling closer so that he was at Castiel’s door.

“Yeah, Cas. Sam’s just… bein’ Sam.” 

Dean reached out to pat Cas’ shoulder but stopped midway, fingers curling back in. Castiel watched, and the disappointment on his face shifted to shock when instead of pulling back, Dean rerouted, pressing his palm over Cas’ heart. Castiel looked into Dean’s face finding it a little pinched, but his ears were also red, so it was likely more bashfulness than discomfort. 

Dean’s eyes remained on his hand as he mumbled. “Wasgonnalaybackdownwannajoinme?”

Castiel couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face. “Of course.”

Dean turned away and reached up to rub at his ear, the skin scalding, and he didn’t understand why he had to be such an awkward idiot. He hadn’t even been this hopeless when he was a teenager, although there was something to be said for the ignorance and bravado of youth.

They slipped into Dean’s bedroom without a sound, Dean shrugging out of his robe while Cas nudged the door shut behind them. It was dark, the only light from the grate near the ceiling letting in light from the hall. Dean moved to his side, and Castiel rounded the foot of the bed to his. Neither made to get in. Dean rubbed his face hard before grabbing the bedding and ripping it back, crawling onto the mattress. When he got his legs out in front of him, back to the headboard, Castiel followed his movements nearly the same as Dean’s but with none of the disruption while Dean burrowed down to rest his cheek on the pillow. Dean often wondered how Cas moved as if his body were weightless as Castiel grabbed the blanket and let it flutter down over both of them, the sheets cool where Dean’s skin was exposed.

Castiel mimicked his pose, curled on his side with his cheek against the pillow and one arm tucked under it. The bedding tented between them, making the foot of mattress that separated them feel even wider. Dean’s feet twisted against one another, wrapping and rewrapping around his ankles. Castiel was still as a sentinel, eyes unblinking in the dark, and something about the smudged shadow of his face, defined only by edges and slopes, put Dean at ease. 

He’d grown accustomed to this view over the last few weeks as a woman. Whether they were naked, sheets kicked off the end of the bed, bodies cooling while their heavy breath fanned each other’s faces or Dean’s eyes fluttered open in the middle of the night, woken by a dream or some perceived stimuli, Cas had been there. For the first time, Dean felt the exact same way he did when he’d experienced this in his female form; safe and warm and like there was no place else he’d rather be. 

Dean’s hand stuttered as it crept across the no-mans-land between their bodies, heart beginning to beat harder, afraid that any misstep could break the spell. Castiel’s hand twitched before it slid closer to Dean, meeting his a little right of center. Cas’ fingers were warm and soft, smoothing over the back of Dean’s, his pinky and ring finger dipping under Dean’s little finger to curl around Dean’s other three. Dean wrapped his thumb around Cas,’ and his little finger around Cas’ ring finger and pinky, grip firm, and Dean hoped that the feeling welling up in his chest was translating across the waves.

_Stay_.

Cas’ hand gave the gentlest squeeze, and Dean received his response, _Of course,_ loud and clear.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“I know I should tell you stuff, but I don’t know what to say.”

Castiel’s brow crinkled in the dark. “I don’t understand.”

Dean huffed a sigh, and when Castiel’s face went contrite, he squeezed his hand hard. “I don’t understand either. Which is why I don’t know what to say. I… I wanna… keep this.” Dean dipped his chin to indicate the two of them. “Something just keeps… short-circuiting when we start to… ya know.” Dean wiggled uncomfortably, and Cas squeezed his hand.

“You’ve spent your whole life in a hyper-masculine space where two men engaging in intimacy was cause for violence. Your father was-”

“Don’t spout that homophobic bullshit at me. I ain’t homophobic, and neither was Dad.” Dean nearly shook Castiel off in his frustration but thought better of it at the last minute, looking down at their clasped hands. He took a breath. “Okay fine, maybe Dad was a bit, but _I’m_ not.” 

He really wasn’t. It was more complicated than that. He rubbed his cheek against his pillow.

”Thought Sam was gay most of our lives.” Dean cracked a smile, but Castiel merely looked bored with his sophomoric humor. “It’s not that, man. I… I really like your… ya know…” Dean jutted his chin at Castiel, who blinked.

“My vessel?”

Dean smashed his face into his pillow. “Your _body_. Fuck, Cas, please don’t add the complication of Jimmy fucking Novak to this mindfuck of a situation.” 

The bed shuddered, and Dean’s head whipped up, catching Castiel’s smile before he could school his features back to stoic ambiguity. “Of course, Dean.”

“Are you _laughing_ at me, you asshole?” Dean did shake off his hand then because he was laughing now, too, and he felt obligated to give Cas' shoulder a shove. 

Blue eyes, mischievous and fond, held his once more, and Dean didn’t even hesitate this time, reaching out and letting his hand curl lightly into a fist before pressing the flat of his knuckles against Castiel’s chest, heartbeat thudding steady against him. Castiel brought up his own hand, cradling it against his chest as if it were something precious. 

“Don’t give up on me.” 

Dean’s voice was small, and he felt a pulse of raw anxiety rip through him after the words left his lips, but Castiel’s steady gaze as he readjusted his hand over Dean’s, covering it like a shield, soothed his ragged nerves.

“I’ve never given up on you before, Dean Winchester. It seems foolish to begin now.”

#

Sam was so fucking sick of walking in on Dean and Cas making out; he’d taken to loudly monologuing everywhere he went as some form of warning system. It was kind of funny at first, Dean making every effort to gross out his kid brother while getting sloppy, dirty mouthfuls of Cas’ perfect lips. As time went on and Sam’s vehement ‘ _Get a room!’_ became more and more shrill, Dean wondered how much longer it would take for them to _need_ the privacy. Which was absolutely absurd because they were clearly on Dean’s timeline here. 

Dean was entirely out of his depth. He’d lost his virginity very enthusiastically the first opportunity he’d gotten at the tender age of fourteen and never looked back. Until now, it seemed. Even the first time with Cas, nervous as he was in his girl body, he’d still been down to fuck with zero apprehension once they got going.

Dean watched Castiel from across the table, his elegant fingers flipping idly through a book, and remembered the taste of those fingers in his mouth, the way they felt inside of him, and the ache of desire set off that uneasiness in him that he couldn’t seem to shake.

“Hey,” Sam cleared his throat, and Dean jerked in his chair, eyes falling to the book in front of him when Castiel looked up. “If I ordered dinner, would you be able to pick it up?” Sam wasn’t looking at either of them, fiddling with his phone.

Dean and Castiel shared a look before they both turned their gaze back to Sam. Cas replied, “I can. Where are you ordering from?”

“That diner in Cawker City.”

“I’ll get my keys.” Castiel stood from the table, needlessly rounding it to walk behind Dean so he could skim his fingertips across the wide breadth of his shoulders. 

Dean’s head turned right then left as he passed, eyes following him until he disappeared through the map room. When Castiel returned a few minutes later, tucking his phone into his pocket, Sam confirmed their orders and sent it off, eyes holding on his phone for a beat afterward.

“Ready in 20 to 25 minutes.” Sam tossed his phone back on the table and pulled his book closer again, hunching over it.

“I’ll be going then.” Castiel’s eyes snagged on Dean’s, and Dean felt his mouth open and close, not sure what he wanted to say or even if he _had_ anything to say. Unless it was to ask if he could come too.

“Cool. Drive safe,” Sam murmured before he turned fully to his brother. “Dean, look at this.”

Dean looked down at the book Sam had shoved his way, and he was distracted long enough that he’d lost his chance, eyes flicking up to watch Castiel ascend the stairs, trench coat swishing around his calves as he exited, the steel door sealing behind him. Dean shook his head and blinked hard, leaning over the book, trying to focus.

“What am I looking at?” Dean’s eyes tried to scan the page, but Sam snatched the book back and snapped it shut.

“Nothing.” Sam sighed, tossing it down the table as he turned in his chair so that he was angled towards Dean, his hands folded in his lap. “How are things?”

Dean blinked at him before his eyes shifted around the room as if he’d find the answer on a nearby shelf. “Uh… fine?”

“You and Cas seem to be doing better.”

Dean snorted before giving a non-committal hum and looked down at the book in front of him. 

“ _Are_ you actually doing better? Or are you just making out everywhere to piss me off?”

Dean swung his chair to face him, elbow thumping on the table to prop up his chin as he pursed his lips. “Can’t it be both? Both is good.” Dean flashed him a grin that was all teeth.

Sam was unmoved. “I’m worried about you.”

Dean’s back went rigid, his head turning slowly on his neck to gape at his brother. Sam had his no-nonsense face on. The one he usually only deployed when Dean was drinking too much or being a little too reckless on hunts. Sometimes his brother was just a walking talking buzzkill.

Dean’s face scrunched up, indignant. “What for?” He lifted a hand in question.

“Because this isn’t like you. You don’t spook like this.”

Dean snorted. “Who’s spooked? I’m not spooked! What does that even mean?” Dean’s face screwed up as he scoffed and muttered, “spooked,” then scoffed again.

Sam gave a beleaguered sigh, letting his head fall back before he lifted it again and rubbed his face hard. He cleared his throat and leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees as he pressed his palms together, rubbing them back and forth slow. Dean watched him nodding his head as if psyching himself up for something, and Dean took that as his cue to get the hell outta there.

Sam’s arm snatched out, hand closing around Dean’s wrist as he made to stand and yanked him back down again, eyes locking on Dean’s. “Look, I don’t wanna have this conversation with you any more than you wanna have it with me.” Sam shook his head, eyebrows raised. “But you’re not having it with Cas, and while I think Garth would have better insight -“ Sam cut himself off with a cough to mask his laugh at the horrified look on Dean’s face, “uh- I know there’s even less chance of you talking to him. So.” Sam leaned back in his chair. “Why are you afraid to have sex with Cas.”

Dean’s face screwed up in utter disbelief and confusion, shaking his head as he blinked rapidly at Sam before looking away, eyebrows raising. “I’m gonna need a fucking drink for this.”

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean stalked over to the bar cart and grabbed the decanter, sloshing brown liquid into a glass. “Dean-“

“ _Ach!”_ Dean held up a finger behind himself as he threw back his glass and then poured himself another, throwing that one back too. Wiping at his mouth, he shook his head as he poured another and returned to the table. He sat his drink down and settled in a chair across from his brother, throwing his boots up onto the table and shooting his cuffs. “Okay. Go.”

Sam sighed. “Why are you afraid to have sex with Cas?”

“No idea. Next.” Dean lifted his drink and sipped while Sam pulled a bitch face.

It smoothed quickly, however. “So, you’re admitting it? You _are_ afraid.”

Dean cut his eyes at Sam. “As afraid as I am of anything else, I guess.” He swirled the contents of his glass as Sam squinted at him.

“And it’s not because he’s a guy?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “What is with everyone thinking-“Dean sighed. “ _NO_ , dude. “

“Look, I know you don’t need me to say it, but I’m going to because sometimes you need to _hear_ it.” Sam took a deep breath leaning forward. He waited for Dean to meet his gaze. “There is _nothing wrong_ with loving another man.” Dean rolled his eyes, looking towards the exit as he snatched up his glass and drained it. “There is _nothing wrong_ with sex between two consenting men. I can’t say _no one_ is going to judge you, but I sure as hell won’t.” Sam pressed his hand to his chest. “And I’ll break the jaw of anyone who does.”

Dean snorted, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips, eyes on his empty glass. The silence stretched for a moment before Dean peered over at Sam, eyes narrowed in question.

“You _really_ think all this is because I’m some kind of homophobe?” Sam’s head tilted to the side, his eyes earnest, but he didn’t deny it, and Dean snorted, eyebrows raising as he set his glass back on the table. “Wow…”

“Dean-“

Dean turned in his seat to face Sam once more. “What have I _ever_ said or done to make you think that I had a problem with gay people?” Dean’s right eye squinted on the word “problem,” and Sam’s expression went unsure at the tell; Dean’s face only did that when he was righteously angry and wounded.

“Well, you’ve been calling me a fag since I was ten,” Sam muttered to give himself time to scan his memory.

“Oh yeah?” Dean’s eyebrows lifted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, last time I checked, all fourteen-year-olds were idiots. When was the last time I called you that?”

Sam looked up at Dean and found his brother glaring at him, mouth set in a grim line, and when Sam stuttered a bit, Dean raised his eyebrows. 

“Um… I honestly don’t remember.” Sam’s eyes dropped to his lap when Dean hummed.

“Yeah, cause I grew up.” Dean’s voice was like a slap. “How many times have you seen me get hit on by dudes?” Dean watched as Sam dipped his head, his hair falling to shield his face. “Hey, eyes on me. I’m talking to you.” Sam’s gaze snapped up on instinct and found the ghost of John Winchester in his brother’s stare, grim and determined. “People have been assuming I’m some kinda way my whole life.” Dean’s arms tighten over his chest, a bitter smile pulling at his lips. “What with my ‘delicate features.’ Drove dad fucking _nuts_. ‘No son of mine…’ and all that” Dean opened his hands to him, eyes rolling to the ceiling before he heaved a sigh and shook his head. 

“Anyway,” he leveled his eyes on Sam and pointed towards his own mouth. “With cock sucking lips like these?” Sam let out a bark of laughter, surprising himself, and Dean cracked a grin. “And giant, Precious Moments doll eyes.” He gestured at them as he dropped his gaze to the table and shrugged. “It just happened a lot. Only bothered me when people were assholes about it. Just assuming I’m gay isn’t an insult. Same as someone assuming I’m straight isn’t. It’s just their perception.” 

Dean shrugged again, spinning his empty glass in his hand as the silence stretched between them. When Dean looked up, Sam immediately looked away, trying to wipe the embarrassment and shame from his face. Dean fought a smile. 

“I gotta say I’m a little hurt you thought that was my hang up.” Dean tapped the glass on the table, and Sam looked at him with guilty eyes. “I mean, you know me, Sam. Am I gonna turn down _anything_ that might give me mind-blowing orgasms?” 

Dean gave his brother a _come on now_ look before he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to smother his laugh. Sam emitted a surprised huff of laughter himself, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he was nodding, tongue prodding at the inside of his lip, and Dean just grinned.

“Except that’s exactly what you’re doing now.” Dean’s smile faded as Sam gave him a scrutinizing look, and Dean glared back before looking out across the room again.  “Maybe you guys should go on a date.”

Dean turned his head slowly and found his brother’s face scrunched up in that way that could be teasing or could actually be a question. 

Dean rested his palm on the table. “Sam, Cas and I have been friends for over a decade. We’ve _already_ fucked. I don’t need to be wooed.”

“Maybe subconsciously you do.” Sam shrugged one shoulder in that infuriatingly casual way he’d done since he was ten. 

Dean rubbed his eyes. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re saying I need to _trick_ myself into letting Cas get in my pants?”

Sam fought a smile. “It’s either that or give yourselves the space and time you need to heal whatever trauma you’re experiencing with shared experiences and emotional intimacy.” 

Dean blinked. “Okay, romantic date night it is.” Dean snatched up his glass and made for the kitchen before coming to a sharp halt. He loosed his forefinger from the glass to point at his brother. “I wanna go to a steak house. Make sure he knows that.”

Sam snorted as Dean moved past, shaking his head when he slapped Sam's shoulder hard. “Sure thing, sis. Maybe lose the beard so it doesn't look like you've got two squirrels fucking on your face.”

Dean flipped Sam the bird over his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews/Kudos are <3
> 
> [Visit me on Tumblr](https://desti-feeels.tumblr.com)  
> 


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